LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


Class 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 

FORN^s 


i 


JACK    HINTON 


Clje  dSuarDgman, 


BY 


CHARLES    LEVER. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY    PHIZ. 


BOSTON: 
LITTLE,  BROWN.  AND  COMPANY. 

1902. 


University    Press  : 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


CONTENTS. 


Chaptib  Pagi 

I.    A  Family  Party • 1 

II.    The  Irish  Packet 7 

III.  The  Castle 15 

IV.  The  Breakfast 28 

V.    The  Review  in  the  Phcenes 44 

VI.    The  Sham  Battle 50 

VII.    The  Rooneys 61 

VIII.    The  Visit       72 

IX.    The  Ball 80 

X.  A  Finale  to  an  Evening 94 

XI.  A  Negotiation 109 

XII.    A  Wager 116 

XIII.  A  Night  of  Trouble 123 

XIV.  The  Parting 142 

XV.    The  Letter  from  Home 147 

XVI.    A  Morning  in  Town 154 

XVII.    An  Evening  in  Town 165 

XVIII.    A  Confidence 183 

XIX.    The  Canal-Boat 192 

XX.     Shannon  Harbor 200 


19306 


>» 


vi  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

XXI.  LoUGHREA            211 

XXII.  A  Moonlight  Canter       225 

XXIII.  Major  Mahon  and  his  Quarters 234 

XXIV.  The  Devils  Grip         240 

XXV.  The  Steeple-Chase ....251 

XXVI.  The  Dinner-Party  at  Mount  Brown    ....  266 

XXVII.  The  Race  Ball       . 273 

XXVIII.  The  Inn  Eire 287 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 
Volume  One. 


3Etrf)ings. 

PAGE 

Modirideroo Frontispiece 

The  Duke  knighting  Corny  Delany 107 

Irish  Sport  with  a  Cockney       . 246 

Joe,  the  Mighty  Hunter 204 

Illustrations  in  trje  2Eat. 

The  Packet 10 

Mr.  Delany 17 

Long  Tim 38 

Mr.  Paul  Rooney 63 

Mrs.  Paul  Rooney 65 

Mr.  Paul  Rooney's  Introduction  to  the  Duke       .     .  90 

The  Finale  to  an  Evening 105 

The  Boys 118 

The  Money-Lender's  Drawing-Room 161 

Painting  Latitat 164 

A     Monk     of     the     Screw     unscrews    Mr.    Delany's 

Courage 181 

Tipperary  Joe 263 

Mr.  Harkin 276 


TO 

THE  EIGHT  HONORABLE   LORD  ELIOT, 

CHIEF  SECRETARY  OF  STATE  FOR  IRELAND. 

My  dear  Lord,  —  The  hero  of  the  Volume  whose  dedication  I 
beg  you  to  accept  of  was  sorely  puzzled,  some  forty  years  back,  by 
the  anomalies  of  the  worthy  people  among  whom  his  lot  was  cast. 
Since  that  period,  whatever  other  changes  time  may  have  worked, 
in  these  respects  I  am  inclined  to  believe  they  remain  unaltered, 
and  are  at  this  moment  pretty  much  as  incomprehensible  as  ever. 

Your  Lordship's  residence  among  us  may  have  assured  you  of 
this  latter  fact,  which,  I  suspect,  is  about  as  much  knowledge  as  is 
attainable  on  the  subject.  I,  at  least,  have  no  presumptuous  expec- 
tation of  elucidating  the  mysteries  or  solving  the  difficulties  of  Irish 
character ;  but  with  the  less  ambitious  object  of  exhibiting  some  of 
their -peculiar  features,  some  of  their  moods  of  mirth  and  melan- 
choly, I  have  ventured  on  these  sketches,  which  I  should  be  de- 
lighted to  hope  might  amuse  a  stray  hour  snatched  from  the  cares  of 
office,  while  they  afford  me  an  occasion  to  say  how  much  I  am, 
My  dear  Lord, 

Your  very  sincere  and  devoted  servant, 

THE  AUTHOR. 

Temple-Oge,  November  10,  1842. 


NOTICE,  LIMINARY  OR  PRELIMINARY. 


My  dear  Lorrequer,  —  As  there  is  no  possibility  of  even  guess- 
ing how  far  your  "  Irish  impudence "  and  the  good  nature  of  the 
public  may  lead  you,  a  number  of  us  have  resolved  on  swimming 
with  the  current  we  cannot  stem  ;  and  as  you  seem  determined  to 
"  take  our  lives,"  we  feel  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  offer  them 
to  you  freely. 

A  little  knot,  —  some  on  full,  some  on  half,  some  on  no  pay,  —  of 
every  age  and  rank  in  the  service,  from  the  lieutenant-general  to  the 
junior  ensign  of  every  arm,  from  the  sepoy  to  the  sapper,  have 
agreed  to  form  a  reunion  under  the  name  of  Our  Mess,  where, 
meeting  together,  we  can  chat  over  and  communicate  such  incidents 
of  our  early  days  as  possibly  might  amuse  the  public,  and  at  all 
events  will  prevent  our  being  presented  to  their  notice  with  more 
follies,  faults,  and  absurdities  than  we  can  justly  lay  claim  to. 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  our  number  was  soon  made  up.  Some 
liked  the  gossip  of  the  thing,  others  the  jollity ;  one  was  pleased 
with  the  publicity,  another  with  the  punch,  and  not  a  few  were 
frightened  by  the  fate  of  Monsoon. 

We  give  you,  then,  all  right  and  title  to  our  memoirs  and 
reminiscences;  you  have  carte  blanche  as  to  style  and  every  other 
matter  of  book-making,  of  which  we  suppose  you  understand  some- 
thing, and  we  are  convinced  we  know  nothing,  —  and  have  only 
one  parting  injunction,  which  is,  to  treat  us  as  tenderly  as  the  trade 
will  permit. 

Believe  me  yours,  my  dear  Lorrequer, 

Tom  O'Flaherty. 
Badajos  Lodge,  Windermere. 

P.  S.  —  We  have  a  stray  Adonis  or  two  among  us  who  would 
prefer  it  if  your  friend  Phiz  could  come  down  here  for  their  por- 


xii  NOTICE,  LUMINARY  OR  PRELIMINARY. 

traits  instead  of  trusting  to  chance,  or,  worse  still,  your  vile  descrip- 
tions.    Try  if  this  could  be  managed. 

P.  P.  S.  —  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  polite  attention  to  send 
us  the  thing  as  it  comes  out  monthly. 

T.  O'F. 


This  free-and-easy  epistle,  most  kind  public,  we  present  to  you 
verbatim,  with  the  double  object  of  showing  to  what  indignities  we 
are  exposed  for  your  sake,  and  also  of  explaining  the  motive  of  the 
present  publication,  —  to  maintain  with  you  an  intimacy  which  is  at 
once  the  pride  and  pleasure  of  our  life.  To  continue,  on  any  terms, 
an  acquaintance  which  to  us  has  been  but  a  source  of  unceasing 
satisfaction,  we  have  put  our  honest  indignation  in  our  pocket,  and 
accepted  our  friend's  proposal. 

Taking  "  Our  Mess  "  as  our  title,  we  purpose  to  give  you  the 
memoirs  of  its  members,  suffering  each  man  to  tell  his  story,  if  he 
have  one,  in  his  own  way.  We  shall  interfere  little  with  their 
claims  to  authorship,  while  we  indulge  the  solitary  hope  that  they 
may  prove  as  agreeable  in  type  as  we  have  known  some  of  them 
at  table. 

We  remember  once,  in  a  ramble  through  the  classic  precincts  of 
the  liberties  in  Dublin,  to  have  assisted  at  a  species  of  lottery,  in 
which  for  the  payment  of  one  shilling  you  had  a  dive  into  a  sack 
supposed  to  contain  wigs  of  every  shape  and  color,  from  the  "  judge  " 
to  the  "jasy."  The  disappointment  and  dismay  of  the  luckless 
candidates  who  by  the  fickleness  of  fortune  invariably  drew  forth 
the  opposite  to  their  wishes,  —  the  spruce  apprentice  falling  upon  a 
"  scratch,"  while  a  cobbler  flourished  a  full  bottom  that  had  figured 
in  Chancery,  —  diverted  us  for  a  considerable  time. 

The  lesson,  however,  has  lingered  in  our  memory,  and  shall  not 
be  lost.  Adopting  the  same  method  with  our  manuscripts,  while  we 
utter  the  honest  invitation  of  our  predecessor,  —  "No  favor  or 
affection,  gentlemen;  all  fair,  and  only  one  shilling,"  —  we  draw 
forth,  at  random,  what  comes  first  to  our  hand,  and  here  present  you 
with  — 


JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 


We  were  all  very  "  pipe-clay,"  I  freely  confess, 

Though  I  see  not  why  that  should  alarm  ye: 
It 's  tol'rably  clear,  if  ye  dine  at  a  mess, 

You  '11  now  and  then  hear  of  the  army  ; 
And  in  fact  for  nought  else  will  you  ever  find  room, 

Nor  e'en  a  sly  syllable  cram, 
While  they  rave  of  Barossa  and  Bergen-op-Zoom, 

Salamanca,  Seringapatam. 

What  a  noise  !  —  what  a  din  !  —  v/hat  a  Babel !  I  'm  sure 

That  no  one  e'er  heard  such  a  racket  ; 
One  old  general 's  describing  the  siege  of  Namur, 

And  an  older,  the  fight  at  Malplaquet. 
But  the  glories  of  Spain,  and  of  Portugal,  too, 

Have  nearly  eclipsed  old  "  Malbrook  ; " 
And  if  any  one  whisper  the  word  Waterloo, 

We  rise  with  three  cheers  to  "  the  Duke." 

The  Mess,  a  Poem. 


JACK   HINTON,    THE    GUARDSMAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A   FAMILY   PARTY. 


It  was  on  a  dark  and  starless  night  in  February,  181-,  as 
the  last  carriage  of  a  dinner  party  had  driven  from  the 
door  of  a  large  house  in  St.  James's  Square,  when  a  party 
drew  closer  around  the  drawing-room  fire,  apparently  bent 
upon  that  easy  and  familiar  chit-chat  the  presence  of 
company  interdicts. 

One  of  these  was  a  large  and  fine-looking  man  of  about 
five-and-forty,  who,  dressed  in  the  full  uniform  of  a  general 
officer,  wore  besides  the  ribbon  of  the  Bath.  He  leaned 
negligently  upon  the  chimney-piece,  and,  with  his  back 
towards  the  fire,  seemed  to  follow  the  current  of  his  own 
reflections.     This  was  my  father. 

Beside  him,  but  almost  concealed  in  the  deep  recess  of 
a  well-cushioned  fauteuil,  sat  or  rather  lay  a  graceful  but 
somewhat  passee  figure,  who  with  an  air  of  languid  repose 
was  shading  her  fine  complexion  as  well  from  the  glare  of 
the  fire  as  the  trying  brilliancy  of  an  Argand  lamp  upon 
the  mantelpiece.  Her  rich  dress,  resplendent  with  jewels, 
while  it  strangely  contrasted  with  the  careless  abandon  of 
her  attitude,  also  showed  that  she  had  bestowed  a  more 
than  common  attention  that  day  upon  her  toilette.  This, 
fair  reader,  was  my  mother. 

VOL.  I.  —  l 


2  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Opposite  to  her,  and  disposed  in  a  position  of  rather 
studied  gracefulness,  lounged  a  tall,  thin,  fashionable-look- 
ing man,  with  a  dark  olive  complexion,  and  a  short  black 
mustache.  He  wore  in  the  button-hole  of  his  blue  coat 
the  ribbon  of  St.  Louis.  The  Count  de  Grammont,  for 
such  he  was,  was  an  emigre  noble,  who,  attached  to  the  for- 
tunes of  the  Bourbons,  had  resided  for  some  years  in  Lon- 
don, and  who,  in  the  double  capacity  of  adviser  of  my 
father  and  admirer  of  my  lady  mother,  obtained  a  consid- 
erable share  of  influence  in  the  family  and  a  seat  at  its 
councils. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  rest,  and  apparently  en- 
gaged with  her  embroidery,  sat  a  very  beautiful  girl,  whose 
dark  hair  and  long  lashes  deepened  the  seeming  paleness  of 
features  a  Greek  sculptor  might  have  copied.  While  noth- 
ing could  be  more  perfect  than  the  calm  loveliness  of  her 
face  and  the  delicate  pencilling  of  her  slightly-arched  eye- 
brows, an  accurate  observer  could  detect  that  her  tremulous 
lip  occasionally  curled  with  a  passing  expression  of  half 
scorn,  as  from  time  to  time  she  turned  her  eyes  towards 
each  speaker  in  turn,  while  she  herself  maintained  a  perfect 
silence.  My  cousin.  Lady  Julia  Egerton,  had  indeed  but 
that  one  fault :  shall  I  venture  to  call  by  so  harsh  a  name 
that  spirit  of  gentle  malice  which  loved  to  look  for  the  lu- 
dicrous features  of  everything  around  her,  and  inclined  her 
to  indulge  what  the  French  call  the  "  esprit  mtq  ueur  "  even 
on  occasions  when  her  own  feelings  were  interested  ? 

The  last  figure  of  the  group  was  a  stripling  of  some  nine- 
teen years,  who,  in' the  uniform  of  the  Guards,  was  endeav- 
oring to  seem  perfectly  easy  and  unconcerned,  while  it 
was  evident  that  his  sword-knot  divided  his  attention  with 
some  secret  thoughts  that  rendered  him  anxious  and  ex- 
cited.    This  was  myself. 

A  silence  of  some  moments  was  at  length  broken  by  my 
mother,  who,  with  a  kind  of  sigh  Miss  O'Neil  was  fond  of, 
turned  towards  the  count  and  said,  — 

"  Do  confess,  Count,  we  were  all  most  stupid  to-day. 
Never  did  a  dinger  go  off  so  heavily.     But  it 's  always  the 


A   FAMILY   TARTY.  6 

penalty  one  pays  for  a  royal  duke.     Ajjropos,  General,  what 
did  lie  say  of  Jack's  appointment  ?  " 

"Nothing  could  be  more  kind,  nothing  more  generous 
than  his  B.oyal  Highness.  The  very  first  thing  he  did  in 
the  room  was  to  place  this  despatch  in  my  hands.  This, 
Jack,"  said  my  father,  turning  to  me,  "this  is  your 
appointment  as  an  extra  aide-de-camp." 

"Very  proper  indeed,"  interposed  my  mother;  "I  am 
very  happy  to  think  you  '11  be  about  the  court.  Windsor, 
to  be  sure,  is  stupid." 

"He  is  not  likely  to  see  much  of  it,"  said  my  father, 
dryly. 

"  Oh,  you  think  he  '11  be  in  town,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  not  exactly  that  either." 

"Then  what  can  you  mean?"  said  she,  with  more  of 
animation  than  before. 

"  Simply,  that  his  appointment  is  on  the  staff  in  Ireland." 

"  In  Ireland  ! "  repeated  my  mother,  with  a  tragic  start. 
"In  Ireland!" 

"  In  Ireland  !  "  said  Lady  Julia,  in  a  low,  soft  voice. 

"En  Irelande!"  echoed  the  count,  with  a  look  of  well 
got  up  horror,  as  he  elevated  his  eyebrows  to  the  very  top 
of  his  forehead ;  while  I  myself,  to  whom  the  communica- 
tion was  as  sudden  and  as  unexpected,  assumed  a  kind  of 
soldier-like  indifference,  as  though  to  say.  "What  matters  it 
to  me ;  what  do  I  care  for  the  rigors  of  climate  ?  The  snows 
of  the  Caucasus  or  the  suns  of  Bengal  are  quite  alike ;  even 
Ireland,  if  his  Majesty's  service  require  it." 

"  Ireland ! "  repeated  my  mother  once  more,  "I  really  never 
heard  anything  so  very  shocking.  But,  my  dear  Jack,  you 
can't  think  of  it.  Surely,  General,  you  had  presence  of 
mind  to  decline." 

"  To  accept,  and  to  thank  most  gratefully  his  Boyal  High- 
ness for  such  a  mark  of  his  favor,  —  for  this  I  had  quite  pres- 
ence of  mind,"  said  my  father,  somewhat  haughtily. 

"  And  you  really  will  go,  Jack  ?  " 

"  Most  decidedly,"  said  I,  as  I  put  on  a  kind  of  Godefroy- 
de-Bouillon  look,  and  strutted  about  the  room. 


4  JACK   HINTON,   THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  And,  pray,  what  can  induce  you  to  such  a  step  ?  " 

"  Oui,  '  que  diable  allait-il  faire  dans  cette  galere  ? ' "  said 
the  count. 

"  By  Jove  ! "  cried  my  father,  hastily,  "  you  are  both  in- 
tolerable ;  you  wished  your  boy  to  be  a  Guardsman  in  oppo- 
sition to  my  desire  for  a  regiment  on  service.  You  would 
have  him  an  aide-de-camp.  Now  he  is  both  one  and  the 
other.  In  Heaven's  name,  what  think  ye  of  getting  him 
made  a  lady  of  the  bed-chamber  ;  for  it 's  the  only  appoint- 
ment I  am  aware  of  —  " 

"  You  are  too  absurd,  General,"  said  my  mother,  pettishly. 
"  Count,  pray  touch  the  bell ;  that  fire  is  so  very  hot,  and  I 
really  was  quite  unprepared  for  this  piece  of  news." 

"  And  you,  Julia,"  said  I,  leaning  over  the  back  of  my 
cousin's  chair,  "what  do  you  say  to  all  this?" 

"I  've  just  been  thinking  what  a  pity  it  is  I  should  have 
wasted  all  my  skill  and  my  worsted  on  this  foolish  rug, 
while  I  could  have  been  embroidering  a  gay  banner  for  our 
young  knight  bound  for  the  wars,  —  <  Partant  pour  la  Syrie, ' " 
hummed  she,  half  pensively,  while  I  could  see  a  struggling 
effort  to  suppress  a  laugh.  I  turned  indignantly  away  and 
walked  towards  the  fire,  where  the  count  was  expending  his 
consolations  on  my  mother. 

"  After  all,  miladi,  it  is  not  so  bad  as  you  think  in  the 
provinces.  I  once  spent  three  weeks  in  Brittany,  very  pleas- 
antly indeed ;  oui,  pardieu,  it 's  quite  true.  To  be  sure,  we 
had  Perlet  and  Mademoiselle  Mars,  and  got  up  the  Pr<f- 
cieuses  Ridicules  as  well  as  in  Paris." 

The  application  of  this  very  apposite  fact  to  Ireland  was 
clearly  satisfactory  to  my  mother,  who  smiled  benignly  at 
the  speaker,  while  my  father  turned  upon  him  a  look  of  the 
most  indescribable  import. 

"Jack,  my  boy,"  said  he,  taking  me  by  the  arm,  "were 
I  your  age,  and  had  no  immediate  prospect  of  active  ser- 
vice, I  should  prefer  Ireland  to  any  country  in  the  world. 
I  have  plenty  of  old  friends  on  the  staff  there.  The  duke 
himself  was  my  schoolfellow  —  " 

"  I  hope  he  will  be  properly  attentive,"  interrupted  my 


A  FAMILY  TARTY.  5 

mother.  "Dear  Jack,  remind  me  to-morrow  to  write  to 
Lady  Mary." 

"  Don't  mistake  the  country  you  're  going  to,"  continued 
my  father';  "  you  will  find  many  things  very  different  from 
what  you  are  leaving ;  and,  above  all,  be  not  over  ready  to 
resent  as  an  injury  what  may  merely  be  intended  as  a 
joke ;  your  brother  officers  will  always  guide  you  on  these 
points." 

"  And  above  all  things,"  said  my  mother,  with  great 
earnestness,  "  do  not  adopt  that  odious  fashion  of  wearing 
their  hair.  I  've  seen  members  of  both  houses,  and  particu- 
larly that  little  man  they  talk  so  much  of,  Mr.  Grattan,  I 
believe  they  call  him  —  " 

"  Make  your  mind  perfectly  easy  on  that  head,  my  lady," 
said  my  father,  dryly  ;  "  your  son  is  not  particularly  likely 
to  resemble  Henry  Grattan." 

My  cousin  Julia  alone  seemed  to  relish  the  tone  of  sar- 
casm he  spoke  in,  for  she  actually  bestowed  on  him  a  look 
of  almost  grateful  acknowledgment. 

"The  carriage,  my  lady,"  said  the  servant,  and  at  the 
same  moment  my  mother,  possibly  not  sorry  to  cut  short 
the  discussion,  rose  from  her  chair. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  look  in  at  the  duchess's,  General  ?  " 

"  For  half  an  hour,"  replied  my  father ;  "  after  that  I  have 
my  letters  to  write.    Jack,  you  know,  leaves  us  to-morrow." 

"  'T  is  really  very  provoking,"  said  my  mother,  turning  at 
the  same  time  a  look  towards  the  count. 

"  A  vos  ordres,  Madame,"  said  he,  bowing  with  an  air  of 
most  deferential  politeness,  while  he  presented  his  arm  for 
her  acceptance. 

"  Good-night,  then,"  cried  I,  as  the  party  left  the  room  ; 
"  I  have  so  much  to  do  and  to  think  of,  I  sha'n't  join  you." 
I  turned  to  look  for  Lady  Julia,  but  she  was  gone,  when  and 
how  I  knew  not ;  so  I  sat  down  at  the  fire  to  ruminate  alone 
over  my  present  position  and  my  prospects  for  the  future. 

These  few  and  imperfect  passages  may  put  the  reader  in 
possession  of  some,  at  least,  of  the  circumstances  which 


6  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

accompanied  my  outset  in  life ;  and  if  they  be  not  suffi- 
ciently explicit,  I  can  only  say  that  he  knows  fully  as  much 
of  me  as  at  the  period  in  question  I  did  of  myself. 

At  Eton  I  had  been  what  is  called  rather  a  smart  boy, 
but  incorrigibly  idle ;  at  Sandhurst  I  showed  more  ability 
and  more  disinclination  to  learn.  By  the  favor  of  a  royal 
duke  (who  had  been  my  god-father)  my  commission  in  a 
marching  regiment  was  exchanged  for  a  second  lieutenancy 
in  the  Guards  ;  and  at  the  time  I  write  of  I  had  been  some 
six  months  in  the  service,  which  I  spent  in  all  the  whirl 
and  excitement  of  London  society.  My  father,  who  besides 
being  a  distinguished  officer  was  one  of  the  most  popu- 
lar men  among  the  clubs,  and  my  mother,  a  London  beauty 
of  some  twenty  years'  standing,  were  claims  sufficient  to  in- 
sure me  no  common  share  of  attention,  while  I  added  to  the 
number  what,  in  my  own  estimation  at  least,  were  certain 
very  decided  advantages  of  a  purely  personal  nature. 

To  obviate,  as  far  as  might  be,  the  evil  results  of  such  a 
career,  my  father  secretly  sued  for  the  appointment  on  the 
staff  of  the  noble  duke,  then  Viceroy  of  Ireland,  in  prefer- 
ence to  what  my  mother  contemplated,  —  my  being  attached 
to  the  royal  household.  To  remove  me  alike  from  the  en- 
ervating influence  of  a  mother's  vanity  and  the  extrava- 
gant profusion  and  voluptuous  abandonment  of  London 
habits,  this  was  his  object.  He  calculated,  too,  that  by 
new  ties,  new  associations,  and  new  objects  of  ambitiou,  I 
should  be  better  prepared  for  and  more  desirous  of  that  career 
of  real  service  to  which  in  his  heart  he  destined  me.  These 
were  his  notions  at  least ;  the  result  must  be  gleaned  from 
my  story. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE    IRISH    PACKET. 


A  few  nights  after  the  conversation  I  have  briefly  al- 
luded to,  and  pretty  much  about  the  same  time,  I  aroused 
myself  from  the  depression  of  nearly  thirty  hours'  sea-sick- 
ness, on  hearing  that  at  length  we  were  in  the  Bay  of  Dub- 
lin. Hitherto  I  had  never  left  the  precincts  of  the  narrow 
den  denominated  my  berth;  but  now  I  made  my  way 
eagerly  on  deck,  anxious  to  catch  a  glimpse,  however  faint, 
of  that  bold  coast  I  had  more  than  once  heard  compared 
with,  or  even  preferred  to,  Naples.  The  night,  however, 
was  falling  fast,  and,  worse  still,  a  perfect  downpour  of 
rain  was  falling  with  it ;  the  sea  ran  high,  and  swept  the 
little  craft  from  stem  to  stern  ;  the  spars  bent  like  whips, 
and  our  single  topsail  strained  and  stretched  as  though  at 
every  fresh  plunge  it  would  part  company  with  us  alto- 
gether. No  trace  or  outline  of  the  coast  could  I  detect  on 
any  side ;  a  deep  red  light  appearing  and  disappearing  at 
intervals,  as  we  rode  upon  or  sank  beneath  the  trough  of 
the  sea,  was  all  that  my  eye  could  perceive.  This,  the  drip- 
ping helsman  briefly  informed  me,  was  the  "  Kish  ;  "  but  as 
he  seemed  little* disposed  for  conversation,  I  was  left  to  my 
unassisted  ingenuity  to  make  out  whether  it  represented 
any  point  of  the  capital  we  were  approaching,  or  not. 

The  storm  of  wind  and  rain  increasing  at  each  moment 
drove  me  once  more  back  to  the  cabin,  where,  short  as  had 
been  the  peroid  of  my  absence,  the  scene  had  undergone  a 
most  important  change.  Up  to  this  moment  my  sufferings 
and  my  seclusion  gave  me  little  leisure  or  opportunity  to 
observe  my  fellow-travellers.  The  stray  and  scattered 
fragments  of  conversation  that  reached  me  rather  puzzled 


8  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

than  enlightened  me.  Of  the  topics  which  I  innocently 
supposed  occupied  all  human  attention  not  a  word  was 
dropped;  Carlton  House  was  not  once  mentioned;  the  St. 
Leger  and  the  Oaks  not  even  alluded  to;  whether  the 
Prince's  breakfast  was  to  come  off  at  Knightsbridge  or 
Frogmore,  no  one  seemed  to  know  or  even  care ;  nor  was  a 
hint  dropped  as  to  the  fashion  of  the  new  bearskins  the 
Guards  were  to  spqrt  at  the  review  on  Hounslow.  The 
price  of  pigs,  however,  in  Ballinasloe,  they  were  perfect  in. 

Of  a  late  row  in  Kil something,  where  one  half  of 

the  population  had  massacred  the  other,  they  knew  every- 
thing, even  to  the  names  of  the  defunct.  A  few  of  the  bet- 
ter-dressed chatted  over  country  matters,  from  which  I 
could  glean  that  game  and  gentry  were  growing  gradually 
scarcer ;  but  a  red-nosed,  fat  old  gentleman,  in  rusty  black 
and  high  boots,  talked  down  the  others  by  an  eloquent  ac- 
count of  the  mawling  that  he,  a  certain  Father  Tom  Loftus, 
had  given  the  Keverend  Paul  Strong  at  a  late  controversial 
meeting  in  the  Rotunda. 

Through  all  this  "  bald,  disjointed  chat "  unceasing  de- 
mands were  made  for  bottled  porter,  "  matarials,"  or 
"  spirits  and  wather,"  of  which,  were  I  to  judge  from  the 
frequency  of  the  requests,  the  consumption  must  have  been 
awful. 

There  would  seem  something  in  the  very  attitude  of 
lying  that  induces  reflection,  and  thus  stretched  at  full 
length  in  my  berth  I  could  not  help  ruminating  upon  the 
land  I  was  approaching,  in  a  spirit  which  I  confess  accorded 
much  more  with  my  mother's  prejudices  than  my  father's 
convictions.  From  the  few  chance  phrases  dropped  around 
me,  it  appeared  that  even  the  peaceful  pursuits  of  a  coun- 
try market,  or  the  cheerful  sports  of  the  field,  were  fol- 
lowed up  in  a  spirit  of  recklessness  and  devilment ;  so  that 
many  a  head  that  left  home  without  a  care  went  back  with 
a  crack  in  it. 

But  to  come  back  once  more  to  the  cabin.  It  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  some  thirty  odd  years  ago  the  passage 
between  Liverpool  and  Dublin  was  not,  as  at  present,  the 


THE   IRISH   PACKET.  * 

rapid  flight  of  a  dozen  hours  from  shore  to  shore,  —  where 
on  one  evening  you  left  the  thundering  din  of  wagons,  and 
the  iron  crank  of  cranes  and  windlasses,  to  wake  the  next 
morning  with  the  rich  brogue  of  Paddy  floating  softly 
around  you,  —  far  from  it;  the  thing  was  then  a  voyage. 
You  took  a  solemn  leave  of  your  friends,  you  tore  yourself 
from  the  embraces  of  your  family,  and  with  a  tear  in  your 
eye  and  a  hamper  on  your  arm  you  betook  yourself  to  the 
pier  to  watch,  with  an  anxious  and  a  beating  heart,  every 
step  of  the  three  hours  preceding  that  heralded  your  de- 
parture. In  those  days  there  was  some  honor  in  being  a 
traveller;  and  the  man  who  had  crossed  the  Channel  a 
couple  of  times  became  a  kind  of  Captain  Cook  among  his 
acquaintances. 

The  most  singular  feature  of  the  whole,  however,  and  the 
one  to  which  I  am  now  about  to  allude,  proceeded  from  the 
fact  that  the  steward  in  those  days,  instead  of  the  exten- 
sive resources  of  the  present  period,  had  little  to  offer  you 
save  some  bad  brandy  and  a  biscuit ;  and  each  traveller  had 
to  look  to  his  various  wants  with  an  accuracy  and  foresight 
that  required  both  tact  and  habit.  The  mere  demands  of 
hunger  and  thirst  were  not  only  to  be  considered  in  the  ab- 
stract, but  a  point  of  far  greater  difficulty,  the  probable 
length  of  the  voyage,  was  to  be  taken  into  consideration ; 
so  that  you  bought  your  beef-steaks  with  your  eye  upon  the 
barometer,  and  laid  in  your  mutton  by  the  age  of  the  moon. 
While  thus  the  agency  of  the  season  was  made  to  re-act 
upon  your  stomach,  in  a  manner  doubtless  highly  conducive 
to  the  interests  of  science,  your  part  became  one  of  the 
most  critical  nicety. 

Scarcely  were  you  afloat  and  on  the  high  seas,  when  your 
appetite  was  made  to  depend  on  the  aspect  of  the  weather. 
Did  the  wind  blow  fresh  and  fair,  you  eat  away  with  a  care- 
less ease  and  a  happy  conscience  highly  beneficial  to  your 
digestion.  With  a  glance  through  the  sky-light  at  the  blue 
heaven,  with  a  sly  look  at  the  prosperous  dog-vane,  you 
helped  yourself  to  the  liver-wing,  and  took  an  extra  glass 
of  your  sherry.     Let  the  breeze  fall,  however ;  let  a  calm 


10  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

come  on,  or,  worse  still,  a  tramping  noise  on  deck,  and  a 
certain  rickety  motion  of  the  craft  betoken  a  change  of 
wind,  —  the  knife  and  fork  fell  listlessly  from  your  hand,  the 
aplifted  cutlet  was  consigned  to  your  plate,  the  very  spoon- 
ful of  gravy  you  had  devoured  in  imagination  was  dropped 
upon  the  dish,  and  you  replaced  the  cork  in  your  bottle, 
with  the  sad  sigh  of  a  man  who  felt  that  instead  of  his 
income  he  had  been  living  on  the  principal  of  his  fortune. 


Happily,  there  is  a  reverse  to  the  medal ;  and  this  it  was 
to  which  now  my  attention  was  directed.  The  trip,  as  oc- 
casionally happened,  was  a  rapid  one  ;  and  while  under  the 
miserable  impression  that  a  fourth  part  of  the  journey  had 
not  been  accomplished,  we  were  blessed  with  the  tidings  of 
land.  Scarcely  was  the  word  littered,  when  it  flew  from 
mouth  to  mouth ;  and  I  thought  I  could  trace  the  elated 
look  of  proud  and  happy  hearts,  as  home  drew  near.     What 


THE   IRISH   PACKET.  11 

•was  my  surprise,  however,  to  see  the  enthusiasm  take  an- 
other and  very  different  channel.  With  one  accord  a 
general  rush  was  made  upon  the  hampers  of  prog.  Baskets 
were  burst  open  on  every  side.  Sandwiches  and  sausages, 
porter  bottles,  cold  punch,  chickens  and  hard  eggs,  were 
strewn  about  with  a  careless  and  reckless  profusion ;  none 
seemed  too  sick  or  too  sore  for  this  general  epidemic  of 
feasting.  Old  gentlemen  sat  up  in  their  beds  and  bawled 
for  beef ;  children  of  tender  years  brandished  a  drum-stick. 
Individuals  who  but  a  short  half-hour  before  seemed  to 
have  made  a  hearty  meal,  testified  by  the  ravenous  exploits 
of  their  appetites  to  their  former  forbearance  and  abstemi- 
ousness. Even  the  cautious  little  man  in  the  brown  spen- 
cer, that  wrapt  up  the  remnant  of  his  breakfast  in  the 
"  Times,"  now  opened  his  whole  store,  and  seemed  bent 
upon  a  day  of  rejoicing.  Never  was  such  a  scene  of  riotous 
noise  and  tumultuous  mirth.  Those  who  scowled  at  each 
other  till  now,  hob-nobbed  across  the  table ;  and  simpering 
old  maids  cracked  merry  thoughts  with  gay  bachelors, 
without  even  a  passing  fear  for  the  result.  "  Thank 
Heaven  !  "  said  T,  aloud,  "  that  I  see  all  this  with  my  sense 
and  my  intellects  clear  about  me  ! "  Had  I  suddenly  awoke 
to  such  a  prospect  from  the  disturbed  slumber  of  sickness, 
the  chances  were  ten  to  one  I  had  jumped  overboard  and 
swam  for  my  life.  In  fact,  it  could  convey  but  one  image 
to  the  mind,  such  as  we  read  of,  when  some  infuriated  and 
reckless  men,  despairing  of  safety,  without  a  hope  left, 
resolve  upon  closing  life  in  the  mad  orgies  of  drunken 
abandonment. 

Here  were  the  meek,  the  tranquil,  the  humble-minded, 
the  solitary,  the  sea-sick,  all  suddenly  converted  into 
riotous  and  roistering  feasters.  The  lips  that  scarcely 
moved  now  blew  the  froth  from  a  porter  cup  with  the  blast 
of  a  Boreas ;  and  even  the  small  urchin  in  the  green  face 
and  nankeen  jacket  bolted  hard  eggs  with  the  dexterity  of 
a  clown  in  a  pantomime.  The  end  of  all  things  (eatable) 
had  certainly  come.  Chickens  were  dismembered  like 
felons,  and  even  jokes  and  witticisms  were  bandied  upon 


i2  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

the  victuals.  What  if  even  yet,  thought  I,  the  wind 
should  change !  The  idea  was  a  malicious  one,  too  horri- 
ble to  indulge  in.  At  this  moment  the  noise  and  tur- 
moil on  deck  apprised  me  that  our  voyage  was  near  its 
termination. 

The  night,  as  I  have  said,  was  dark  and  stormy.  It 
rained  too  —  as  it  knows  only  how  to  rain  in  Ireland. 
There  was  that  steady  persistence,  that  persevering  monot- 
ony of  downpour,  which,  not  satisfied  with  wetting  you  to 
the  skin,  seems  bent  upon  converting  your  very  blood  into 
water.  The  wind  swept  in  long  and  moaning  gusts  along 
the  bleak  pier,  which,  late  and  inclement  as  it  was,  seemed 
crowded  with  people.  Scarcely  was  a  rope  thrown  ashore 
when  we  were  boarded  on  every  side,  by  the  rigging,  on  the 
shrouds,  over  the  bulwarks,  from  the  anchor  to  the  taffrail ; 
the  whole  population  of  the  island  seemed  to  flock  in  upon 
lis,  while  sounds  of  welcome  and  recognition  resounded  on 
all  sides. 

"  How  are  you,  Mister  Maguire  ?  " 

"  Is  the  mistress  with  you  ?  " 

"  Is  that  you,  Mister  Tierney  ?  " 

"  How  are  you,  ma'am  ?  " 

"And  yourself,  Tim?" 

u  Beautiful,  glory  be  to  God  ! " 
■  "  A  great  passage,  entirely,  ma'am." 

"  Nothing  but  rain  since  I  seen  you." 

"  Take  the  trunks  up  to  Mrs.  Tunstall ;  and,  Tim,  darling, 
oysters  and  punch  for  four." 

"  Great  Mercy  !  "  said  I,  "  eating  again  ! " 

"Morrisson,  your  honor,"  said  a  ragged  ruffian,  nudging 
me  by  the  elbow. 

"Keilly,  sir;  isn't  it?  It's  me,  sir, — the  Club.  I'm 
the  man  always  drives  your  honor." 

"  Arrah,  howld  your  prate ! "  said  a  deep  voice,  "  the 
gentleman  has  n't  time  to  bless  himself." 

"  It's  me,  sir;  Owen  Daly,  that  has  the  black  horse." 

"  More,  by  token,  with  a  spavin,"  Avhispered  another, 
while  a  roar  of  laughter  followed  the  joke. 


THE  IRISH  PACKET.  13 

"A  car,  sir,  —  take  you  up  in  five  minutes." 

"  A  chaise,  your  honor,  —  do  the  thing  dacently." 

Now,  whether  my  hesitation  at  this  moment  was  set 
down  by  the  crowd  of  my  solicitors  to  some  doubt  of  my 
solvency  or  not,  I  cannot  say ;  but,  true  it  is,  their  tone  of 
obsequious  entreaty  gradually  changed  into  one  of  rather 
caustic  criticism. 

"  Maybe  it 's  a  gossoon  you  'd  like,  to  carry  the  little 
trunk." 

"  Let  him  alone  !  it 's  only  a  carpetbag ;  he  '11  carry  it 
himself." 

"  Don't  you  see  the  gentleman  would  rather  walk  ?  And 
as  the  night  is  fine,  't  is  pleasanter  —  and  —  cheaper." 

"  Take  you  for  a  fipp'ny  bit  and  a  glass  of  sparits,"  said  a 
gruff  voice  in  my  ear. 

By  this  time  I  had  collected  my  luggage  together,  whose 
imposing  appearance  seemed  once  more  to  testify  in  my 
favor,  particularly  the  case  of  my  cocked  hat,  which  to  my 
ready-witted  acquaintances  proclaimed  me  a  military  man. 
A  general  rush  was  accordingly  made  upon  my  luggage  ; 
and  while  one  man  armed  himself  with  a  portmanteau,  an- 
other laid  hands  on  a  trunk,  a  third  a  carpet-bag,  a  fourth  a 
gun-case,  and  so  on,  until  I  found  myself  keeping  watch 
and  ward  over  my  epaulet-case  and  my  umbrella,  the  sole 
remnant  of  my  effects.  At  the  same  moment  a  burst  of 
laughter  and  a  half  shout  broke  from  the  crowd,  and  a  huge 
powerful  fellow  jumped  on  the  deck,  and,  seizing  me  by  the 
arm,  cried  out,  — 

"  Come  along  now,  Captain .     It 's  all  right.     This 

way,  this  way,  sir." 

"  But  why  am  I  to  go  with  you  ?  "  said  I,  vainly  strug- 
gling to  escape  his  grasp. 

"  Why  is  it  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  chuckling  laugh  ;  "  reason 
enough,  —  did  n't  we  toss  up  for  ye,  and  did  n't  I  win  ye  ?  " 

"  Win  me  ! " 

"  Ay ;  just  that  same." 

By  this  time  I  found  myself  beside  a  car,  upon  which  all 
my  luggage  was  already  placed. 


14  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  Get  up  now,"'  said  he. 

"  It 's  a  beautiful  car,  and  a  dhry  cushion,"  added  a  voice 
near,  to  the  manifest  mirth  of  the  bystanders. 

Delighted  to  escape  my  tormentors,  I  sprang  up  opposite 
to  him,  while  a  cheer,  mad  and  wild  enough  for  a  tribe  of 
Iroquois,  yelled  behind  us.  Away  we  rattled  over  the 
pavement,  without  lamp  or  lantern  to  guide  our  path,  while 
the  sea  dashed  its  foam  across  our  faces,  and  the  rain  beat 
in  torrents  upon  our  backs. 

"  Where  to,  Captain  ?  "  inquired  my  companion,  as  he 
plied  his  whip  without  ceasing. 

"  The  Castle ;  you  know  where  that  is  ?  " 
"Faix  I  ought,"  was  the  reply.     "Ain't  I  there  at  the 
levees  ?     But  howld  fast,  your  honor ;  the  road  is  n't  good, 
and  there  is  a  hole  somewhere  hereabouts." 

"  A  hole  !  For  Heaven's  sake,  take  care  !  Do  you  know 
where  it  is  ?  " 

"  Begorra,  you  're  in  it ! "  was  the  answer ;  and,  as  he 
spoke,  the  horse  went  down  head  foremost,  the  car  after 
him.  Away  flew  the  driver  on  one  side,  while  I  myself  was 
shot  some  half-dozen  yards  on  the  other,  a  perfect  ava- 
lanche of  trunks,  boxes,  and  valises  rattling  about  my 
doomed  head.  A  crashing  shower  of  kicks,  the  noise  of  the 
flying  splinters,  and  the  imprecations  of  the  carman  were 
the  last  sounds  I  hoard,  as  a  heavy  imperial  full  of  books 
struck  me  on  the  head,  and  laid  me  prostrate. 

Through  my  half-consciousness  I  could  still  feel  the  rain 
as  it  fell  in  sheets ;  the  heavy  plash  of  the  sea  sounded  in 
my  ears ;  but,  somehow,  a  feeling  like  sleepiness  crept  over 
me,  and  I  became  insensible. 


CHAPTER   III. 


THE   CASTLE. 


When  I  next  came  to  my  senses  I  found  myself  lying 
upon  a  sofa  in  a  large  room,  of  which  I  appeared  the  only 
occupant.  A  confused  and  misty  recollection  of  my  acci- 
dent, some  scattered  fragments  of  my  voyage,  and  a  rather 
aching  sensation  in  my  head  were  the  only  impressions  of 
which  I  was  well  conscious.  The  last  evening  I  spent  at 
home  was  full  in  my  memory,  and  I  could  not  help  thinking 
over  my  poor  mother's  direful  anticipations  in  my  vain  en- 
deavors to  penetrate  what  I  felt  had  been  a  misfortune  of 
some  kind  or  other.  The  mystery  was,  however,  too  deep 
for  my  faculties ;  and  so,  in  despair  of  unravelling  the  past, 
I  set  myself  to  work  to  decipher  the  present.  The  room,  I 
have  already  said,  was  large ;  and  the  ceiling,  richly  stuc- 
coed and  ornamented,  spoke  of  a  day  whose  architecture 
was  of  a  grand  and  massive  character.  The  furniture,  now 
old  and  time-worn,  had  once  been  handsome,  even  magnifi- 
cent, —  rich  curtains  of  heavy  brocaded  silk,  with  deep  gold 
fringes,  gorgeously-carved  and  gilded  chairs,  in  the  taste  of 
Louis  XV.;  marble  consoles  stood  between  the  windows, 
and  a  mirror  of  gigantic  proportions  occupied  the  chimney- 
breast.  Years  and  neglect  had  not  only  done  their  worst, 
but  it  was  evident  that  the  hand  of  devastation  had  also 
been  at  work.  The  marbles  were  cracked ;  few  of  the  chairs 
were  available  for  use ;  the  massive  lustre,  intended  to 
shine  with  a  resplendent  glare  of  fifty  wax-lights,  was  now 
made  a  resting-place  for  shakos,  bearskins,  and  foraging- 
caps  ;  an  ominous-looking  star  in  the  looking-glass  bore 
witness  to  the  bullet  of  a  pistol ;  and  the  very  Cupids 
carved  upon  the  frame,  who  once  were  wont  to  smile  blandly 


16  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

at  each  other,  were  now  disfigured  with  cork  mustaches, 
and  one  of  them  even  carried  a  pair  of  spurs  in  his  mouth. 
Swords,  sashes,  and  sabretaches,  spurs  and  shot-belts,  with 
guns,  fishing-tackle,  and  tandem  whips,  were  hung  here  and 
there  upon  the  walls,  which  themselves  presented  the  stran- 
gest spectacle  of  all,  there  not  being  a  portion  of  them  un- 
occupied by  caricature  sketches,  executed  in  every  imagina- 
ble species  of  taste,  style,  and  coloring.  Here  was  a  field-day 
in  the  park,  in  which  it  was  easy  to  see  the  prominent  fig- 
ures were  portraits ;  there  an  enormous  nose,  surmounted 
by  a  grenadier  cap,  was  passing  in  review  some  trembling 
and  terrified  soldiers.  In  another,  a  commander-of-the-forces 
was  seen  galloping  down  the  lines,  holding  on  by  the  pom- 
mel of  the  saddle.  Over  the  sofa  I  occupied  a  levee  at  the 
castle  was  displayed,  in  which,  if  the  company  were  not 
villanously  libelled,  the  viceroy  had  little  reason  to  be  proud 
of  his  guests.  There  were  also  dinners  at  the  lodge ;  guards 
relieved  by  wine-puncheons  dressed  up  like  field-officers ; 
the  whole  accompanied  by  doggerel  verses  explanatory  of 
the  views. 

The  owner  of  this  singular  chamber  had,  however,  not 
merely  devoted  his  walls  to  the  purposes  of  an  album,  but 
he  had  also  made  them  perform  the  part  of  a  memorandum- 
book.  Here  were  the  "  meets  "  of  the  Kildare  and  the 
Dubber  for  the  month  of  March ;  there  the  turn  of  duty  for 
the  garrison  of  Dublin,  interspersed  with  such  fragments  as 
the  following :  "  Mem.  —  To  dine  at  Mat  Kean's  on  Tues- 
day, 4th.  —  Xot  to  pay  Hennesy  till  he  settles  about  the 
handicap.  —  To  ask  Courtenay  for  Fanny  Burke's  fan ;  the 
same  Fanny  has  pretty  legs  of  her  own.  —  To  tell  Holmes 
to  have  nothing  to  do  with  Lanty  Moore's  niece,  in  regard 
to  a  reason  !  —  Five  to  two  on  Giles's  two-year-old,  if  Tom 
likes.  —  N.B.  The  mare  is  a  roarer.  —  A  heavenly  dajT,  what 
fun  they  must  have  !  —  May  the  devil  fire  Tom  0' Flaherty, 
or  I  would  not  be  here  now."  These  and  a  hundred  other 
similar  passages  figured  on  every  side,  leaving  me  in  a  state 
of  considerable  mystification,  not  as  to  the  character  of  my 
host,  of  which  I  could  guess  something,  but  as  to  the  nature 


THE   CASTLE. 


17 


=3    P- 


?^feF 


of  his  abode,  which  I  could  not  imagine  to  be  a  barrack- 
room. 

As  I  lay  thus  pondering,  the  door  cautiously  opened,  and 
a  figure  appeared,  which,  as  I  had  abundant  leisure  to  ex- 
amine it,  and  as  the  individual  is  one  who  occasionally 
turns  up  in  the  course  of  my  history,  I  may  as  well  take 
the  present  opportunity  of  presenting  to  my  reader.  The 
man  who  entered,  scarcely  more  than  four  feet  and  a  half 
high,  might  be  about  sixty 
years  of  age.  His  head,  enor- 
mously disproportioned  to  the 
rest  of  his  figure,  presented 
a  number  of  flat  surfaces,  as 
though  Nature  had  originally 
destined  it  for  a  crystal. 
Upon  one  of  these  planes  the 
eyes  were  set,  and  although 
as  far  apart  as  possible,  yet 
upon  such  terms  of  distance 
were  they  that  they  never, 
even  by  an  accident,  looked 
in  the  same  direction.  The 
nose  was  short  and  snubby; 
the  nostrils  wide  and  ex- 
panded, as  if  the  feature  had 
been  pitched  against  the  face 
in  a  moment   of    ill  temper, 

and  flattened  by  the  force.  As  for  the  mouth,  it  looked 
like  the  malicious  gash  of  a  blunt  instrument,  jagged, 
ragged,  and  uneven.  It  had  not  even  the  common-place 
advantage  of  being  parallel  to  the  horizon,  but  ran  in  an 
oblique  direction  from  right  to  left,  enclosed  between  a 
parenthesis  of  the  crankiest  wrinkles  that  ever  human 
cheek  were  creased  by.  The  head  would  have  been  bald 
but  for  a  scanty  wig,  technically  called  a  "jasy,"  which, 
shrunk  by  time,  now  merely  occupied  the  apex  of  the  scalp, 
where  it  moved  about  with  every  action  of  the  forehead 
and  eyebrows,  and  was  thus  made  to  minister  to  the  expres- 

VOL  I. — 2 


18  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

sion  of  a  hundred  emotions  that  other  men's  wigs  know 
nothing  about.  Truly,  it  was  the  strangest  peruke  that 
ever  covered  a  human  cranium  ;  I  do  not  believe  that  an- 
other like  it  ever  existed.  It  had  nothing  in  common  with 
other  wigs  ;  it  was  like  its  owner,  perfectly  sui  generis. 
It  had  not  the  easy  flow  and  wavy  curl  of  the  old  beau ;  it 
had  not  the  methodical  precision  and  rectilinear  propriety 
of  the  elderly  gentleman  ;  it  was  not  full  like  a  lawyer's, 
nor  horse-shoed  like  a  bishop's.  No ;  it  was  a  cross-grained, 
ill-tempered,  ill-conditioned  old  scratch,  that  looked  like 
nothing  under  heaven  save  the  husk  of  a  hedge-hog. 

The  dress  of  this  strange  figure  was  a  suit  of  very 
gorgeous  light-brown  livery,  with  orange  facings ;  a  green 
plush  waistcoat  and  shorts,  frogged,  flapped,  and  embroi- 
dered most  lavishly  Avith  gold  lace ;  silk  stockings,  with 
shoes,  whose  enormous  buckles  covered  nearly  the  entire 
foot,  and  rivalled,  in  their  paste  brilliancy,  the  piercing 
brightness  of  the  wearer's  eye.  Having  closed  the  door 
carefully  behind  him,  he  walked  towards  the  chimney, 
with  a  certain  air  of  solemn  and  imposing  dignity  that 
very  nearly  overcame  all  my  efforts  at  seriousness,  —  his 
outstretched  and  expanded  hands,  his  averted  toes  and 
waddling  gait,  giving  him  a  most  distressing  resemblance 
to  the  spread  eagle  of  Prussia,  had  that  respectable  bird 
been  pleased  to  take  a  promenade  in  a  showy  livery.  Hav- 
ing snuffed  the  candles,  and  helped  himself  to  a  pinch  of 
snuff  from  a  gold  box  on  the  mantelpiece,  he  stuck  his 
arms,  nearly  to  the  elbows,  in  the  ample  pockets  of  his 
coat,  and  with  his  head  a  little  elevated,  and  his  under-lip 
slightly  protruded,  seemed  to  meditate  upon  the  mutability 
of  human  affairs  and  the  vanity  of  all  worldly  pursuits. 

I  coughed  a  couple  of  times  to  attract  his  attention,  and 
having  succeeded  in  catching  his  eye,  I  begged,  in  my 
blandest  imaginable  voice,  to  know  where  I  was. 

"  Where  are  ye,  is  it  ?  "  said  he,  repeating  my  question 
in  a  tone  of  the  most  sharp  and  querulous  intonation,  to 
which  not  even  his  brogue  could  lend  one  touch  of  softness. 
"  Where  are  ye  ?  And  where  would  you  like  to  be  ;  or  where 


THE   CASTLE.  19 

would  any  one  be  that  was  disgracing  himself,  or  black- 
guarding about  the  streets  till  he  got  his  head  cut  and  his 
clothes  torn,  but  in  Master  Phil's  room  ? — devil  other  com- 
pany it 's  used  to.  Well,  well !  It  is  more  like  a  watch- 
house  nor  a  gentleman's  parlor,  the  same  room.  It 's  little 
his  father,  the  judge," —  here  he  crossed  himself  piously,  — 
"  it  is  little  he  thought  the  company  his  son  would  be  keep- 
ing ;  but  it  is  no  matter.  I  gave  him  warning  last  Tuesday, 
and  with  the  blessing  o'  God  —  " 

The  remainder  of  this  speech  was  lost  in  a  low  muttering 
grumble,  which,  I  afterwards  learned,  was  his  usual  manner 
of  closing  an  oration,  —  a  few  broken  and  indistinct  phrases 
being  only  audible,  such  as,  "  Sarve  you  right,"  —  "  Fifty 
years  in  the  family,"  —  "  Slaving  like  a  negur,"  —  "  Oh,  the 
Turks  !  the  Haythins  !  " 

Having  waited  what  I  deemed  a  reasonable  time  for  his 
honest  indignation  to  evaporate,  I  made  another  effort  to 
ascertain  who  my  host  might  be. 

"  Would  you  favor  me,"  said  I,  in  a  tone  still  more  insin- 
uating, "  with  the  name  of  —  " 

"  It 's  my  name  ye  want  ?  Oh,  sorrow  bit  I  am  ashamed 
of  it !  Little  as  you  think  of  me,  Cornelius  Delany  is  as 
good  a  warrant  for  family  as  many  a  one  of  the  dirty 
spalpeens  about  the  coort,  that  have  n't  a  civiller  word  in 
their  mouth  than  Cross  Corny  !  Bad  luck  to  them  for  that 
same  !  " 

This  honest  admission  as  to  the  world's  opinion  of  Mister 
Delany's  character  was  so  far  satisfactory  as  it  enabled  me 
to  see  with  whom  I  had  to  deal ;  and  although  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two  it  was  a  severe  struggle  to  prevent  myself 
bursting  into  laughter,  I  fortunately  obtained  the  mastery, 
and  once  more  returned  to  the  charge. 

"And  now,  Mister  Delany,  can  you  inform  me  how  I 
came  here  ?  I  remember  something  of  an  accident  on  my 
landing ;  but  when,  where,  and  how,  I  am  totally  ignorant." 

"  An  accident !  "  said  he,  turning  up  his  eyes,  "  an  acci- 
dent, indeed !  That 's  what  they  always  call  it,  when  they 
wring  off  the  rappers,  or  bate  the  watch.     Ye  came  here  in 


20  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

a  hackney-coach,  with  the  police,  as  many  a  one  came  before 
you." 

"But  where  am  I  ?"  said  I,  impatiently. 

"  In  Dublin  Castle ;  bad  luck  to  it  for  a  riotous,  disorderly 
place ! " 

"  Well,  well,"  said  I,  half  angrily,  "  I  want  to  know  whose 
room  is  this  ?  " 

"Captain  O'Grady's.  What  have  you  to  say  agin  the 
room  ?  Maybe  you  're  used  to  worse.  There,  now,  that 's 
what  you  got  for  that.  I  'm  laving  the  place  next  week ; 
but  that 's  no  rason  —  " 

Here  he  went  off  diminuendo  again,  with  a  few  flying 
imprecations  upon  several  things  and  persons  unknown. 

Mister  Delany  now  dived  for  a  few  seconds  into  a  small 
pantry  at  the  end  of  the  room,  from  which  he  emerged 
with  a  tray  between  his  hands,  and  two  decanters  under 
his  arms. 

"  Draw  the  little  table  this  way,"  he  cried,  "  more  towards 
the  fire ;  for,  av  coorse,  you  're  fresh  and  fastin'.  There 
now,  take  the  sherry  from  under  my  arm,  —  the  other 's 
port ;  that  was  a  ham,  till  Captain  Mills  cut  it  away,  as  ye 
see ;  there  's  a  veal  pie,  and  here  's  a  cold  grouse  ;  and 
maybe  you  've  eat  worse  before  now,  —  and  will  again, 
plaze  God." 

I  assured  him  of  the  truth  of  his  observation  in  a  most 
conciliating  tone. 

"  Oh,  the  devil  fear  ye ! "  was  the  reply ;  while  he  mur- 
mured somewhat  lower,  —  "  the  half  of  yees  is  n't  used  to 
meat  twice  in  the  week." 

"  Capital  fare,  this,  Mister  Delany,"  said  I,  as,  half  fam- 
ished with  long  fasting,  I  helped  myself  a  second  time. 

"  You  're  eating  as  if  you  liked  it,"  said  he,  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  I,  after  throwing  down  a  bumper 
of  sherry,  "  that 's  a  very  pleasant  glass  of  wine ;  and,  on 
the  whole,  I  should  say  there  are  worse  places  than  this  in 
the  world." 

A  look  of  unutterable  contempt  —  whether  at  me  for  my 


THE   CASTLE.  21 

discovery,  or  at  the  opinion  itself,  I  can't  say  —  was  the 
sole  reply  of  my  friend;  who,  at  the  same  moment,  pre- 
suming I  had  had  sufficient  opportunities  for  the  judgment 
I  pronounced,  replaced  the  decanters  upon  the  tray,  and 
disappeared  with  the  entire  in  the  most  grave  and  solemn 
manner. 

Repressing  a  very  great  inclination  to  laughter,  I  sat 
still ;  and  a  silence  of  a  few  moments  ensued,  when  Mister 
Delany  walked  towards  the  window,  and,  drawing  aside  the 
curtains,  looked  out.  All  was  in  darkness  save  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  courtyard,  where  a  blaze  of  light  fell 
upon  the  pavement  from  over  the  half  shutters  of  an  ap- 
parently spacious  apartment.  "  Ay,  ay,  there  you  go  !  hip, 
hip,  hurrah !  You  waste  more  liquor  every  night  than  would 
float  a  lighter ;  that 's  all  you  're  good  for,  bad  luck  to  your 
Grace! — making  fun  of  the  people,  laughing  and  singing 
as  if  the  potatoes  was  n't  two  shillings  a  stone." 

"  What 's  going  on  there  ?  "  said  I. 

"  The  ould  work,  nay ther  more  nor  less,  —  the  lord  liftin- 
nant  and  the  bishops  and  the  jidges  and  all  the  privy 
councillors  roaring  drunk.  Listen  to  them  !  May  I  never 
if  it  is  n't  the  dean's  voice  I  hear,  — the  ould  beast!  he  is 
singing  (  The  Night  before  Larry  was  stretched.' " 

"That's  a  good  fellow,  Corny  —  Mister  Delany,  I  mean: 
do  open  the  window  for  a  little,  and  let 's  hear  them." 

"It's  a  blessed  night  you'd  have  the  window  open  to 
listen  to  a  set  of  drunken  devils.  But  here 's  Master  Phil ; 
I  know  his  step  well.  It 's  long  before  his  father  that 's 
gone  would  come  tearing  up  the  stairs  that  way  as  if  the 
bailiffs  was  after  him;  rack  and  ruin,  sorrow  else,  av  I 
never  got  a  place  —  the  Haythins !  the  Turks!" 

Mister  Delany,  who  probably  from  motives  of  delicacy 
wished  to  spare  his  master  the  pain  of  an  interview,  made 
his  exit  by  one  door  as  he  came  in  at  the  other.  I  had 
barely  time  to  see  that  the  person  before  me  was  in  every 
respect  the  very  opposite  of  his  follower,  when  he  called 
out  in  a  rich,  mellow  voice,  — 

"  All  right  again,   I  hope,    Mr.  Hinton  ?     It 's  the   first 


22  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

moment  I  could  get  away ;  we  had  a  dinner  at  the  Privy 
Council,  and  some  of  them  are  rather  late  sitters.  You  're 
not  hurt,  I  trust  ?  " 

"A  little  bruised,  or  so,  nothing  more;  but,  pray,  how- 
did  I  fall  into  such  kind  hands  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  watchman,  it  seems,  could  read  ;  and  as  your 
trunks  were  addressed  to  the  Castle,  they  concluded  you 
ought  to  go  there  also.  You  have  despatches  have  n't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  producing  the  packet ;  "  when  must  they 
be  delivered  ?  " 

"Oh,  at  once.  Do  you  think  you  could  make  a  little 
change  in  your  dress,  and  manage  to  come  over  ?  His  Grace 
always  likes  it  better;  there's  no  stiffness,  no  formality 
whatever.  Most  of  the  dinner-party  have  gone  home ;  there 
are  only  a  few  of  the  government  people,  the  duke's 
friends,  remaining ;  and,  besides,  he 's  always  kind  and 
good-natured." 

"  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do,"  replied  I,  as  I  rose  from  the 
sofa;  "I  put  myself  into  your  hands  altogether." 

"Well,  come  along,"  said  he;  "you'll  find  everything 
ready  in  this  room.  I  hope  that  old  villain  has  left  hot 
water.  Corny,  Corny,  I  say !  confound  him,  he 's  gone  to 
bed,  I  suppose." 

Having  no  particular  desire  for  Mister  Delany's  attentions, 
I  prevailed  on  his  master  not  to  disturb  him,  and  proceeded 
to  make  my  toilette  as  well  as  I  was  able. 

"  Did  n't  that  stupid  scoundrel  come  near  you  at  all  ?  " 
cried  O'Grady. 

"Oh,  yes,  we  have  had  along  interview;  but,  somehow, 
I  fear  I  did  not  succeed  in  gaining  his  good  graces." 

"  The  worst-tempered  old  villain  in  Europe." 

"  Somewhat  of  a  character,  I  take  it." 

"A  crab-tree  planted  in  a  lime-kiln,  cranky  and  cross- 
grained  ;  but  he  is  a  legacy,  almost  the  only  one  my  father 
left  me.  I  've  done  my  best  to  part  with  him  every  day  for 
the  last  twelve  years,  but  he  sticks  to  me  like  a  poor  rela- 
tion, giving  me  warning  every  night  of  his  life,  and  every 


THE   CASTLE.  23 

morning  kicking  up  such  a  row  in  the  house  that  every  one 
is  persuaded  I  am  beating  him  to  a  jelly  before  turning 
him  out  to,  starve  in  the  streets." 

"  Oh,  the  Haythins  !  the  Turks  !  "  said  I,  slyly. 

"  Confound  it !  "  cried  he,  "  the  old  devil  has  been  open- 
ing upon  you  already  !  And  yet,  with  all  that,  I  don't  know 
how  I  should  get  on  without  Corny ;  his  gibes,  his  jeers,  his 
everlasting  ill-temper,  his  crankiness  that  never  sleeps, 
seem  to  agree  with  me  !  The  fact  is,  one  enjoys  the  world 
from  its  contrasts  ;  the  olive  is  a  poor  thing  in  itself,  but 
it  certainly  improves  the  smack  of  your  Burgundy.  In  this 
way  Corny  Delany  does  me  good  service.  Come,  by  Jove, 
you  have  not  been  long  dressing.  This  way :  now  follow 
me."  So  saying,  Captain  O'Grady  led  the  way  down  the 
stairs  to  the  piazza,  following  which  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  quadrangle  we  arrived  at  a  brilliantly-lighted  hall, 
where  several  servants  in  full-dress  liveries  were  in  wait- 
ing. Passing  hastily  through  this,  we  mounted  a  handsome 
staircase,  and  traversing  several  antechambers,  at  length 
arrived  at  one  whose  contiguity  to  the  dinner-room  I  could 
guess  at  from  the  loud  sound  of  many  voices.  "  Wait  one 
moment  here,"  said  my  companion,  "until  I  speak  to  his 
Grace."  He  disappeared  as  he  spoke,  but  before  a  minute 
had  elapsed  he  was  again  beside  me.  "  Come  this  way ; 
it's  all  right,"  said  he.  The  next  moment  I  found  myself 
in  the  dinner-room. 

The  scene  before  me  was  altogether  so  different  from 
what  I  had  expected,  that  for  a  moment  or  two  I  could 
scarce  do  aught  else  than  stand  still  to  survey  it.  At  a 
table  which  had  been  laid  for  about  forty  persons,  scarcely 
more  than  a  dozen  were  now  present.  Collected  together 
at  one  end  of  the  board,  the  whole  party  were  roaring  with 
laughter  at  some  story  of  a  strange,  melancholy-looking 
man,  whose  whining  voice  added  indescribable  ridicule  to 
the  drollery  of  his  narrative.  Gray-headed  general  officers, 
grave-looking  divines,  lynx-eyed  lawyers,  had  all  giveo 
way  under  the  irresistible  impulse,  and  the  very  table 
shook  with  laughter. 


24  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Mr.  Hinton,  your  Excellency,"  said  O'Grady,  for  the 
third  time,  while  the  duke  wiped  his  eye  with  his  napkin, 
and  pushing  his  chair  a  little  back  from  the  table  motioned 
me  to  approach. 

"  Ah,  Hinton,  glad  to  see  you.  How  is  your  father,  a  very 
old  friend  of  mine,  indeed ;  and  Lady  Charlotte,  —  well,  I 
hope  ?  O'Grady  tells  me  you  've  had  an  accident,  —  some- 
thing slight,  I  trust.  So  these  are  the  despatches."  Here 
he  broke  the  seal  of  the  envelope  and  ran  his  eye  over  the 
contents.  "  There,  that 's  your  concern."  So  saying,  he 
pitched  a  letter  across  the  table  to  a  shrewd-looking  person- 
age in  a  horseshoe  wig.  "  They  won't  do  it,  Dean,  and  we 
must  wait.  Ah,  so  they  don't  like  my  new  commis- 
sioners !  But,  Hinton,  my  boy,  sit  down.  O'Grady,  have 
you  room  there  ?     A  glass  of  wine  with  you." 

"Nothing  the  worse  of  your  mishap,  sir?"  said  the 
melancholy-looking  man  who  sat  opposite  to  me. 

I  replied  by  briefly  relating  my  accident. 

"Strange  enough,"  said  he,  in  a  compassionate  tone, 
"  your  head  should  have  suffered ;  your  countrymen  gen- 
erally fall  upon  their  legs  in  Ireland."  This  was  said  with 
a  sly  look  at  the  viceroy,  who,  deep  in  his  despatches,  paid 
no  attention  to  the  allusion. 

"  A  very  singular  thing,  I  must  confess,"  said  the  duke, 
laying  down  the  paper.  "  This  is  the  fourth  time  the 
bearer  of  despatches  has  met  with  an  accident.  If  they 
don't  run  foul  of  a  rock  in  the  Channel  they  are  sure  to 
have  a  delay  on  the  pier." 

"  It  is  so  natural,  my  lord,"  said  the  gloomy  man,  "  that 
the  carriers  should  stop  at  the  pigeon-house." 

"  Do  be  quiet,  Curran,"  cried  the  duke,  "  and  pass  round 
the  decanter ;  they  '11  not  take  the  duty  off  claret,  it  seems." 

"  And  Day,  my  lord,  won't  put  the  claret  on  duty ;  he 
has  kept  the  wine  at  his  elbow  for  the  last  half  hour. 
Upon  my  soul,  your  Grace  ought  to  knight  him." 

"  Not  even  his  Excellency's  habits,"  said  a  sharp,  clever- 
looking  man,  "  would  excuse  his  converting  Day  into 
knight." 


THE   CASTLE.  25 

Amid  a  shower  of  smart,  caustic,  and  witty  sayings,  droll 
stories,  retort  and  repartee,  the  wine  circulated  freely  from 
hand  to  hand,  —  the  presence  of  the  duke  adding  fresh 
impulse  to  the  sallies  of  fun  and  merriment  around  him. 
Anecdotes  of  the  army,  the  bench,  and  the  bar  poured  in 
unceasingly,  accompanied  by  running  commentaries  of  the 
hearers,  who  never  let  slip  an  opportunity  for  a  jest  or  a 
rejoinder.  To  me  the  most  singular  feature  of  all  this  was 
that  no  one  seemed  too  old  or  too  dignified,  too  high  in 
station  or  too  venerable  from  office,  to  join  in  this  head- 
long current  of  conviviality;  austere  churchmen,  erudite 
chief-justices,  profound  politicians,  privy  councillors,  mili- 
tary officers  of  high  rank  and  standing,  were  here  all  mixed 
up  together  into  one  strange  medley,  apparently  bent  on 
throwing  an  air  of  ridicule  over  the  graver  business  of  life, 
and  laughing  alike  at  themselves  and  the  world.  Nothing 
was  too  grave  for  a  jest,  nothing  too  solemn  for  a  sarcasm. 
All  the  soldier's  experience  of  men  and  manners,  all  the 
lawyer's  acuteness  of  perception  and  readiness  of  wit,  all 
the  politician's  practised  tact  and  habitual  subtlety,  were 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  common  topics  of  the  day  with 
such  promptitude  and  such  power  that  one  knew  not 
whether  to  be  more  struck  by  the  mass  of  information  they 
possessed,  or  by  that  strange  fatality  which  could  make 
men,  so  great  and  so  gifted,  satisfied  to  jest  where  they 
might  be  called  on  to  judge. 

Play  and  politics,  wine  and  women,  debts  and  duels,  were| 
discussed  not  only  with  an  absence  of  all  restraint,  but  with 
a  deep  knowledge  of  the  world  and  a  profound  insight  into 
the  heart,  which  often  imparted  to  the  careless  and  random 
speech  the  sharpness  of  the  most  cutting  sarcasm.  Per- 
sonalities too  were  rife :  no  one  spared  his  neighbor,  for  he_j 
did  not  expect  mercy  for  himself ;  and  the  luckless  wight 
who  tripped  in  his  narrative  or  stumbled  in  his  story  was 
assailed  on  every  side,  until  some  happy  expedient  of  his 
own,  or  some  new  victim  being  discovered,  the  attack  would 
take  another  direction,  and  leave  him  once  more  at  liberty. 
I  feel  how  sadly  inadequate  I  am  to  render  even  the  faint- 


26  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

est  testimony  to  the  talents  of  those  any  one  of  whom  in 
after  life  would  have  been  considered  to  have  made  the 
fortune  of  a  dinner-party,  and  who  now  were  met  together, 
not  in  the  careless  ease  and  lounging  indifference  of  relaxa- 
tion, but  in  the  open  arena  where  wit  met  wit,  and  where 
even  the  most  brilliant  talker,  the  happiest  relator,  the 
quickest  in  sarcasm,  and  the  readiest  in  reply  felt  he  had 
need  of  all  his  weapons  to  defend  and  protect  him.  This 
was  no  war  of  partisans,  but  a  melee  tournament,  where 
each  man  rode  down  his  neighbor,  with  no  other  reason  for 
attack  than  the  rent  in  his  armor.  Even  the  viceroy  him- 
self, who  as  judge  of  the  lists  might  be  supposed  to  enjoy 
an  immunity,  was  not  safe  here ;  and  many  an  arrow,  ap- 
parently shot  at  an  adversary,  was  sent  quivering  into 
his  corslet. 

As  I  watched  with  all  the  intense  excitement  of  one  to 
whom  such  a  display  was  perfectly  new,  I  could  not  help 
feeling  how  fortunate  it  was  that  the  grave  avocations  and 
the  venerable  pursuits  of  the  greater  number  of  the  party 
should  prevent  this  firework  of  wit  from  bursting  into  the 
blaze  of  open  animosity.  I  hinted  as  much  to  my  neigh- 
bour O'Grady,  who  at  once  broke  into  a  fit  of  laughter  at 
my  ignorance ;  and  I  now  learned  to  my  amazement  that 
the  Common  Pleas  had  winged  the  Exchequer,  that  the 
attorney-general  had  pinked  the  Rolls,  and,  stranger  than 
all,  that  the  provost  of  the  University  himself  had  planted 
his  man  in  the  Phoenix. 

"  It  is  just  as  well  for  us,"  continued  he  in  a  whisper, 
"  that  the  churchmen  can't  go  out ;  for  the  clean  yonder  can 
snuff  a  candle  at  twenty  paces,  and  is  rather  a  hot-tempered 
fellow  to  boot.  But  come,  now ;  his  Grace  is  about  to  rise. 
We  have  a  field-day  to-morrow  in  the  park,  and  break  up 
somewhat  earlier  in  consequence." 

As  it  was  now  near  two  o'clock  I  could  see  nothing  to  cavil 
at  as  to  the  earliness  of  the  hour ;  although  I  freely  confess, 
tired  and  exhausted  as  I  felt,  I  could  not  contemplate  the 
moment  of  separation  without  a  sad  foreboding  that  I  never 
should  look  upon  the  like  again.     The  party  rose  at  this 


THE   CASTLE.  27 

moment,  and  the  duke,  shaking  hands  cordially  with  each 
person  as  he  passed  down,  wished  us  all  a  good-night.  I 
followed  with  O'Grady  and  some  others  of  the  household, 
but  when  I  reached  the  antechamber  my  new  friend  volun- 
teered his  services  to  see  me  to  my  quarters. 

On  traversing  the  lower  castle-yard  we  mounted  an  old- 
fashioned  and  rickety  stair,  which  conducted  to  a  gloomy, 
ill-lighted  corridor.  I  was  too  much  fatigued,  however,  to 
be  critical  at  the  moment ;  and  so,  having  thanked  O'Grady 
for  all  his  kindness,  I  threw  off  my  clothes  hastily,  and 
before  my  head  was  well  upon  the  pillow  was  sound 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE    BREAKFAST. 


There  are  few  persons  so  unreflective  as  not  to  give  way 
to  a  little  self-examination  on  waking  for  the  first  time  in 
a  strange  place.  The  very  objects  about  are  so  many  ap- 
peals to  your  ingenuity  or  to  your  memory  that  you  can- 
not fail  asking  yourself  how  you  became  acquainted  with 
them ;  the  present  is  thus  made  the  herald  of  the  past,  and 
it  is  difficult,  when  unravelling  the  tangled  web  of  doubt 
that  assails  you,  not  to  think  over  the  path  by  which  you 
have  been  travelling. 

As  for  me,  scarcely  were  my  eyes  opened  to  the  light,  I 
had  barely  thrown  one  glance  around  my  cold  and  comfort- 
less chamber,  when  thoughts  of  home  came  rushing  to  my 
mind.  The  warm  earnestness  of  my  father,  the  timid 
dreads  of  my  poor  mother,  rose  up  before  me,  as  I  felt  my- 
self for  the  first  time  alone  in  the  world.  The  elevating 
sense  of  heroism,  that  more  or  less  blends  with  every  young 
man's  dreams  of  life,  gilds  our  first  journey  from  our 
father's  roof.  There  is  a  feeling  of  freedom  in  being  the 
arbiter  of  one's  actions,  to  go  where  you  will  and  when  you 
will.  Till  that  moment  the  world  has  been  a  comparative 
blank ;  the  trammels  of  school  or  the  ties  of  tutorship 
have  bound  and  restrained  you.  You  have  been  living,  as 
it  were,  within  the  rules  of  court,  —  certain  petty  privileges 
permitted,  certain  small  liberties  allowed ;  but  now  you 
come  forth  disenchanted,  disenthralled,  emancipated,  free 
to  come  as  to  go,  —  a  man  in  all  the  plenitude  of  his  voli- 
tion, and,  better  still,  a  man  without  the  heavy  depressing 
weight  of  responsibility  that  makes  manhood  less  a  bless- 
ing  than  a  burden.     The  first   burst   of  life   is   indeed  a 


3ITY     1 

^•"THE   BREAKFAST.  29 

glorious  thing ;  youth,  health,  hope,  and  confidence  have 
each  a  force  and  vigor  they  lose  in  after  years.  Life  is 
then  a  splendid  river,  and  we  are  swimming  with  the 
stream ;  no"  adverse  waves  to  weary,  no  billows  to  buffet  us, 
we  hold  on  our  course  rejoicing. 

The  sun  was  peering  between  the  curtains  of  my  window, 
and  playing  in  fitful  flashes  on  the  old  oak  floor,  as  I  lay 
thus  ruminating  and  dreaming  over  the  future.  How  many 
a  resolve  did  I  then  make  for  my  guidance ;  how  many  an 
intention  did  I  form ;  how  many  a  groundwork  of  princi- 
ple did  I  lay  down,  with  all  the  confidence  of  youth ! 
I  fashioned  to  myself  a  world  after  my  own  notions,  in 
which  I  conjured  up  certain  imaginary  difficulties,  all  of 
which  were  surmounted  by  my  admirable  tact  and  con- 
summate cleverness.  I  remembered  how,  at  both  Eton  and 
Sandhurst,  the  Irish  boy  was  generally  made  the  subject  of 
some  jest  or  quiz,  —  at  one  time  for  his  accent,  at  another 
for  his  blunders.  As  a  Guardsman,  short  as  had  been  my 
experience  of  the  service,  I  could  plainly  see  that  a  certain 
indefinable  tone  of  superiority  was  ever  asserted  towards 
our  friends  across  the  sea.  A  wide-sweeping  prejudice, 
whose  limits  were  neither  founded  in  reason,  justice,  nor 
common-sense,  had  thrown  a  certain  air  of  undervaluing 
import  over  every  one  and  every  thing  from  that  country. 
Not  only  were  its  faults  and  its  follies  heavily  visited,  but 
those  accidental  and  trifling  blemishes,  —  those  slight  and 
scarce  perceptible  deviations  from  the  arbitrary  standard  of 
fashion, —  were  deemed  the  strong  characteristics  of  the 
nation,  and  condemned  accordingly ;  while  the  slightest  use 
of  any  exaggeration  in  speech,  the  commonest  employ- 
ment of  a  figure  or  a  metaphor,  the  causal  introduction  of 
an  anecdote  or  a  repartee,  were  all  heavily  censured,  and 
pronounced  "  so  very  Irish  ! "  Let  some  fortune-hunter 
carry  off  an  heiress ;  let  a  lady  trip  over  her  train  at  the 
drawing-room ;  let  a  minister  blunder  in  his  mission  ;  let  a 
powder-magazine  explode  and  blow  up  one  half  of  the  sur- 
rounding population,  —  there  was  but  one  expression  to 
qualify  all,  "  How  Irish !  how  very  Irish  !  "     The  adjective 


30  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

had  become  one  of  depreciation ;  and  an  Irish  lord,  an  Irish 
member,  an  Irish  estate,  and  an  Irish  diamond  were  held 
pretty  much  in  the  same  estimation. 

Reared  in  the  very  hotbed,  the  forcing-house  of  such 
exaggerated  prejudice,  while  imbibing  a  very  sufficient  con- 
tempt for  everything  in  that  country,  I  obtained  proportion- 
ably  absurd  notions  of  all  that  was  English.  Our  principles 
may  come  from  our  fathers  :  our  prejudices  certainly  de- 
scend from  the  female  branch.  Now,  my  mother,  notwith- 
standing the  example  of  the  Prince  Regent  himself,  whose 
chosen  associates  were  Irish,  was  most  thoroughly  exclusive 
on  this  point.  She  would  admit  that  a  native  of  that  coun- 
try could  be  invited  to  an  evening  party  under  extreme  and 
urgent  circumstances  ;  that  some  brilliant  orator,  whose 
eloquence  was  at  once  the  dread  and  the  delight  of  the  house, 
—  that  some  gifted  poet,  whose  verses  came  home  to  the 
heart  alike  of  prince  and  peasant,  — that  the  painter,  whose 
canvas  might  stand  unblushingly  amid  the  greatest  triumphs 
of  art,  —  could  be  asked  to  lionize  for  those  cold  and  callous 
votaries  of  fashion,  across  the  lake  of  whose  stagnant  na- 
ture no  breath  of  feeling  stirred,  esteeming  it  the  while 
that  in  her  card  of  invitation  he  was  reaping  the  proudest 
proof  of  his  success;  but  that  such  could  be  made  acquain- 
tances or  companions,  could  be  regarded  in  the  light  of 
equals  or  intimates,  —  the  thing  never  entered  into  her  im- 
agination, and  she  would  as  soon  have  made  a  confidant  of 
the  King  of  Kongo  as  a  gentleman  from  Connaught. 

Less  for  the  purposes  of  dwelling  upon  my  lady-mother's 
"  Hibernian  horrors  "  than  of  showing  the  school  in  which 
I  was  trained,  I  have  made  this  somewhat  lenghtened  exposL 
It  may,  however,  convey  to  my  reader  some  faint  impres- 
sion of  the  feelings  which  animated  me  at  the  outset  of  my 
career  in  Ireland. 

I  have  already  mentioned  the  delight  I  experienced  with 
the  society  at  the  viceroy's  table.  So  much  brilliancy,  so 
much  wit,  so  much  of  conversational  power,  until  that  mo- 
ment I  had  no  conception  of.  Now,  however,  while  reflect- 
ing on  it,  I  was  actually  astonished  to  find  how  far  the 


THE  BREAKFAST.  31 

whole  scene  contributed  to  the  support  of  my  ancient  preju- 
dices. I  well  knew  that  a  party  of  the  highest  functionaries 
—  bishops,  and  law-officers  of  the  crown  —  would  not  have 
conducted  themselves  in  the  same  manner  in  England.  I 
stopped  not  to  inquire  whether  it  was  more  the  wit  or  the 
Avill  that  was  wanting ;  I  did  not  dwell  upon  the  fact  that 
the  meeting  was  a  purely  convivial  one,  to  which  I  was  ad- 
mitted by  the  kindness  and  condescension  of  the  duke,  —  but 
so  easily  will  a  warped  and  bigoted  impression  find  food  for 
its  indulgence,  I  only  saw  in  the  meeting  an  additional  evi- 
dence of  my  early  convictions.  How  far  my  theorizing  on 
this  point  might  have  led  me,  —  whether  eventually  I  should 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Irish  nation  were 
lying  in  the  darkest  blindness  of  barbarism,  while  by  a  spe- 
cial intervention  of  Providence  I  was  about  to  be  erected 
into  a  species  of  double  revolving  light,  —  it  is  difficult  to 
say,  when  a  tap  at  the  door  suddenly  aroused  me  from  my 
musings. 

"  Are  ye  awake  yet  ?  "  said  a  harsh,  husky  voice,  like  a 
bear  in  bronchitis,  which  I  had  no  difficulty  in  pronouncing 
to  be  Corny's. 

"  Yes,  come  in,"  cried  I.     "  What  hour  is  it  ?  " 

"  Somewhere  after  ten,"  replied  he,  sulkily.  "  You  're  the 
first  I  ever  heerd  ask  the  clock  in  the  eight  years  I  have 
lived  here.     Are  ye  ready  for  your  morning  ?  '" 

"  My  what  ?  "  said  I,  with  some  surprise. 

"  Did  n't  I  say  it  plain  enough  ?  Is  it  the  brogue  that 
bothers  you  ?  "  As  he  said  this  with  a  most  sarcastic  grin, 
he  poured,  from  a  large  jug  he  held  in  one  hand,  a  brim- 
ming goblet  full  of  some  white  compound,  and  handed  it 
over  to  me.  Preferring  at  once  to  explore,  rather  than  to 
question  the  intractable  Corny,  I  put  it  to  my  lips,  and 
found  it  to  be  capital  milk-punch,  concocted  with  great 
skill,  and  seasoned  with  what  O'Grady  afterwards  called 
"  a  notion  of  nutmeg." 

"  Oh,  devil  fear  you,  that  ye  '11  like  it.  Sorrow  one  of 
you  ever  left  as  much  in  the  jug  as  'ud  make  a  foot-bath  for 
a  flea." 


32  JACK   HINTON,   THE    GUARDSMAN. 

"They  don't  treat  you  over-well,  then,  Corny?"  said  I, 
purposely  opening  the  sorest  wound  of  his  nature. 

"  Trate  me  well !  faix,  them  that  'ud  come  here  for  good 
tratement  would  go  to  the  devil  for  divarsion.  There  's 
Master  Phil  himself,  that  I  used  to  bate  when  he  was  a 
child,  —  many  's  the  time  when  his  father,  rest  his  sowl,  was 
up  at  the  courts,  —  ay,  strapped  him,  till  he  had  n't  a  spot 
that  was  n't  sore  an  him.  And  look  at  him  now ;  oh,  wirra! 
you  'd  think  I  never  took  a  ha'porth  of  pains  with  him. 
Ugh  !  the  Haythins  !    the  Turks  !  " 

"  This  is  all  very  bad,  Corny.     Hand  me  those  boots." 

"  And  thim  's  boots  ! "  said  he,  with  a  contemptuous  ex- 
pression on  his  face  that  would  have  struck  horror  to  the 
heart  of  Hoby.  "  Well,  well !  "  Here  he  looked  up  as 
though  the  profligacy  and  degeneracy  of  the  age  were 
transgressing  all  bounds.  "  When  you  're  ready,  come 
over  to  the  master's,  for  he  's  waiting  breakfast  for  you. 
A  beautiful  hour  for  breakfast  it  is !  Many 's  the  day 
his  father  sintenced  a  whole  dock  full  before  the  same 
time  !  " 

With  the  comforting  reflection  that  the  world  went  better 
in  his  youth,  Corny  drained  the  few  remaining  drops  of 
the  jug,  and  muttering  the  while  something  that  did  not 
sound  exactly  like  a  blessing,  waddled  out  of  the  room 
with  a  gait  of  the  most  imposing  gravity. 

I  had  very  little  difficulty  in  finding  my  friend's  quar- 
ters ;  for  as  his  door  lay  open,  and  as  he  himself  was 
carolling  away,  at  the  very  top  of  his  lungs,  some  popular 
melody  of  the  day,  I  speedily  found  nvyself  beyond  the 
threshold. 

"  Ah,  Hinton,  my  hearty,  how  goes  it  ?  Your  head-piece 
nothing  the  worse,  I  hope,  for  either  the  car  or  the  claret  ? 
By-the-bye,  capital  claret  that  is ;  you  've  nothing  like  it  in 
England." 

I  could  scarce  help  a  smile  at  the  remark,  as  O'Grady 
proceeded,  — 

"  But,  come,  my  boy,  sit  down ;  help  yourself  to  a  cutlet, 
and  make  yourself  quite  at  home  in  Mount  O'Grady." 


THE   BREAKFAST.  33 

"  Mount  O'Grady  !  "  repeated  I.  "  Ha !  in  allusion,  I 
suppose,  to  these  confounded  two  flights  one  has  to  climb 
up  to  you.'\ 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind ;  the  name  has  a  very  different 
origin.  Tea  or  coffee  ?  —  there 's  the  congou.  Now,  my  boy, 
the  fact  is  we  O'Gradys  were  once  upon  a  time  very  great 
folk  in  our  way ;  lived  in  an  uncouth  old  barrack,  with 
battlements  and  a  keep,  upon  the  Shannon,  where  we  rav- 
aged the  country  for  miles  round,  and  did  as  much  mis- 
chief, and  committed  as  much  pillage  upon  the  peaceable 
inhabitants,  as  any  respectable  old  family  in  the  province. 
Time,  however,  wagged  on  ;  luck  changed ;  your  countrymen 
came  pouring  in  upon  us  with  new-fangled  notions  of  read- 
ing, writing,  and  road-making  ;  police  and  petty  sessions, 
and  a  thousand  other  vexatious  contrivances  followed, 
to  worry  and  puzzle  the  heads  of  simple  country  gentle- 
men, —  so  that  at  last,  instead  of  taking  to  the  hillside  for 
our  mutton,  we  were  reduced  to  keep  a  market-cart,  and 
employ  a  thieving  rogue  in  Dublin  to  supply  us  with  poor 
claret,  instead  of  making  a  trip  over  to  Galway,  where  a 
smuggling  craft  brought  us  our  lush,  with  a  bouquet  fresh 
from  Bordeaux.  But  the  worst  was  n't  com~  ;  for  you  see 
a  litigious  spirit  grew  up  in  the  country,  and  a  kind  of 
vindictive  habit  of  pursuing  you  for  your  debts.  Now,  we 
always  contrived,  somehow  or  other,  to  have  rather  a  con- 
fused way  of  managing  our  exchequer.  No  tenant  on  the 
property  ever  precisely  knew  what  he  owed ;  and  as  we 
possessed  no  record  of  what  he  paid,  our  income  was  rather 
obtained  after  the  manner  of  levying  a  tribute  than  receiv- 
ing a  legal  debt.  Meanwhile  we  pushed  our  credit  like  a 
new  colony.  Whenever  a  loan  was  to  be  obtained,  it  was 
little  we  cared  for  ten,  twelve,  or  even  fifteen  per  cent ; 
and  as  we  kept  a  jolly  house,  a  good  cook,  good  claret,  and 
had  the  best  pack  of  beagles  in  the  country,  he  'd  have 
been  a  hardy  creditor  who  'd  have  ventured  to  push  us  to 
extremities.  Even  sheep,  however,  they  say,  get  courage 
when  they  flock  together ;  and  so  this  contemptible  herd  of 
tailors,  tithe-proctors,  butchers,  barristers,  and  bootmakers 

VOL.  I.  — 3 


34  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

took  heart  of  grace,  and  laid  siege  to  us  in  all  form.  My 
grandfather,  Phil,  —  for  I  was  called  after  hirn,  —  who 
always  spent  his  money  like  a  gentleman,  had  no  notion  of 
figuring  in  the  Four  Courts  ;  but  he  sent  Tom  Darcy,  his 
cousin,  up  to  town,  to  call  out  as  many  of  the  plaintiffs  as 
would  fight,  and  to  threaten  the  remainder  that  if  they  did 
not  withdraw  their  suits  they  'd  have  more  need  of  the  sur- 
geon than  the  attorney-general,  for  they  should  n't  have  a 
whole  bone  in  their  body  by  Michaelmas  Day.  Another 
cutlet,  Hinton ;  but  I  am  tiring  you  with  all  these  family 
matters." 

"  iTot  at  all ;  go  on,  I  beg  of  you.  I  want  to  hear  how 
your  grandfather  got  out  of  his  difficulties." 

"  Faith,  I  wish  you  could ;  it  would  be  equally  pleasant 
news  to  myself.  But,  unfortunately,  his  beautiful  plan 
only  made  bad  worse,  for  they  began  fresh  actions.  Some, 
for  provocation  to  fight  a  duel ;  others,  for  threats  of  as- 
sault and  battery.  And  the  short  of  it  was,  as  my  grand- 
father wouldn't  enter  a  defence,  they  obtained  their 
verdicts,  and  got  judgment,  with  all  the  costs." 

"The  devil  they  did!  That  must  have  pushed  him 
hard." 

"  So  it  did.  Indeed,  it  got  the  better  of  his  temper ;  and 
he  that  was  one  of  the  heartiest,  pleasantest  fellows  in 
the  province,  became,  in  a  manner,  morose  and  silent ;  and 
instead  of  surrendering  possession,  peaceably  and  quietly, 
he  went  down  to  the  gate,  and  took  a  sitting  shot  at  the 
sub-sheriff,  who  was  there  in  a  tax-cart." 

"  Bless  my  soul !     Did  he  kill  him  ?  " 

"  No ;  he  only  ruffled  his  feathers  and  broke  his  thigh ; 
but  it  was  bad  enough,  for  he  had  to  go  over  to  France  till 
it  blew  over.  Well,  it  was  either  vexation  or  the  climate, 
or  maybe  the  weak  wines,  or  perhaps  all  three,  under- 
mined his  constitution ;  but  he  died  at  eighty-four,  —  the 
only  one  of  the  family  ever  cut  off  early,  except  such  as 
were  shot,  or  the  like." 

"  Well,  but  your  father —  " 

"I  am  coming  to  him.     My  grandfather  sent  for  him 


THE  BREAKFAST.  35 

from  school  when  he  was  dying,  and  he  made  him  swear  he 
would  be  a  lawyer.  'Morris  will  be  a  thorn  in  their  flesh, 
yet,'  said  he;  'and  look  to  it,  my  boy,'  he  cried,  'I  leave 
you  a  Chancery  suit  that  has  nearly  broke  eight  families 
and  the  hearts  of  two  chancellors.  See  that  you  keep  it 
going;  sell  every  stick  on  the  estate;  put  all  the  beggars 
in  the  barony  on  the  property,  —  beg,  borrow,  and  steal 
them  ;  plough  up  all  the  grazing-land ;  and  I  '11  tell  you 
a  better  trick  than  all  — '  Here  a  fit  of  coughing  inter- 
rupted the  pious  old  gentleman,  and  when  it  was  over,  so 
was  he ! " 

"  Dead  ?  "  said  I. 

"As  a  door-nail!  "Well,  my  father  was  dutiful;  he 
kept  the  suit  moving  till  he  got  called  to  the  bar !  Once 
there,  he  gave  it  all  his  spare  moments ;  and  when  there 
was  nothing  going  in  the  Common  Pleas  or  King's  Bench 
he  was  sure  to  come  doAvn  with  a  new  bill  or  a  declaration 
before  the  Master,  or  a  writ  of  error,  or  a  point  of  law  for 
a  jury,  till  at  last,  when  no  case  was  ready  to  come  on,  the 
sitting  judge  would  call  out,  'Let  us  hear  O'Grady,' — 
in  appeal,  or  in  error,  or  whatever  it  was.  But,  to  make 
my  story  short,  my  father  became  a  first-rate  lawyer  by 
the  practice  of  his  own  suit ;  rose  to  a  silk-gown ;  was 
made  solicitor  and  attorney-general;  afterwards,  chief- 
justice  —  " 

"  And  the  suit  —  " 

"Oh,  the  suit  survived  him,  and  became  my  property. 
But  somehow  I  didn't  succeed  in  the  management  quite 
as  well  as  my  father ;  and  I  found  that  my  estate  cost  me 
somewhere  about  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  —  not  to  mention 
more  oaths  than  fifty  years  of  purgatory  could  pay  off. 
This  was  a  high  premium  to  pay  for  figuring  every  term  on 
the  list  of  trials,  so  I  raised  a  thousand  pounds  on  my  com- 
mission, gave  it  to  Kick  M'Xamara  to  take  the  property  off 
my  hands ;  and  as  my  father's  last  injunction  was,  '  Never 
rest  till  you  sleep  in  Mount  O'Grady,' —  why,  I  just  bap- 
tized my  present  abode  by  that  name,  and  here  I  live  with 
the   easy  conscience   of   a  dutiful  and   affectionate  child, 


36  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

that  took  the  shortest  and  speediest  way  of  fulfilling 
his   father's   testament." 

"  By  Jove  !  a  most  singular  narrative.  I  should  n't  like 
to  have  parted  with  the  old  place,  however." 

"  Faith,  I  don't  know ;  I  never  was  much  there.  It  was 
a  rackety,  tumble-down  old  concern,  with  rattling  windows, 
rooks  and  rats,  pretty  much  like  this ;  and  what  between 
my  duns  and  Corny  Delany,  I  very  often  think  I  am  back 
there  again.  There  was  n't  as  good  a  room  as  this  in  the 
whole  house,  not  to  speak  of  the  pictures.  Is  n't  that  like- 
ness of  Darcy  capital  ?  You  saw  him  last  night ;  he  sat 
next  Curran.  Come,  I  've  no  Curacoa  to  offer  you,  but  try 
this  Usquebaugh." 

"  By-the-bye,  that  Corny  is  a  strange  character.  I  rather 
think,  if  I  were  you,  I  should  have  let  him  go  with  the 
property." 

"  Let  him  go !  Egad,  that 's  not  so  easy  as  you  think. 
Nothing  but  death  will  ever  part  us." 

"  I  really  cannot  comprehend  how  you  endure  him  ;  he  'd 
drive  me  mad." 

"  Well,  he  very  often  pushes  me  a  little  hard  or  so ;  and 
if  it  was  n't  that  by  deep  study  and  minute  attention 
I  have  at  length  got  some  insight  into  the  weak  parts 
of  his  nature,  I  frankly  confess  I  could  n't  endure  it  much 
longer." 

"  And,  pray,  what  may  these  amiable  traits  be  ?  " 

"  You  will  scarcely  guess." 

"  Love  of  money,  perhaps  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Attachment  to  your  family,  then  ?  " 

"  Not  that  either." 

"  I  give  it  up." 

"  Well,  the  truth  is,  Corny  is  a  most  pious  Catholic. 
The  Church  has  unbounded  influence  and  control  over  all 
his  actions.  Secondly,  he  is  a  devout  believer  in  ghosts, 
particularly  my  grandfather's,  which,  I  must  confess,  I  have 
personated  two  or  three  times  myself,  when  his  temper  had 
nearly  tortured  me  into  a  brain  fever ;  so  that  between  pur- 


THE   BREAKFAST.  37 

gatory  and  apparitions,  fears  here  and  hereafter,  I  keep 
him  pretty  busy.  There  's  a  friend  of  mine,  a  priest,  one 
Father  Tom  Loftus —  " 

"  I  've  heard  that  name  before,  somewhere." 

"  Scarcely,  I  think ;  I  'm  not  aware  that  he  was  ever  in 
England.  But  he  's  a  glorious  fellow  ;  I'll  make  you  known 
to  him  one  of  these  days ;  and  when  you  have  seen  a  little 
more  of  Ireland,  I  am  certain  you  '11  like  him.  But  I  'm 
forgetting,  —  it  must  be  late ;  we  have  a  field-day,  you 
know,  in  the  park." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  for  a  mount  ?  I  've  brought  no  horses 
with  me." 

"  Oh,  I  've  arranged  all  that.  See,  there  are  the  nags 
already,  —  that  dark  chestnut  I  destine  for  you,  — and,  come 
along,  we  have  no  time  to  lose.  There  go  the  carriages, 
and  here  comes  our  worthy  confrere  and  fellow  aide-de- 
camp ;    do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Who  is  it,  pray  ?  " 

"  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere,  the  most  confounded  puppy  and 
the  emptiest  ass  —  But  here  he  is.  De  Vere,  my  friend 
Mr.  Hinton.     One  of  ours." 

His  Lordship  raised  his  delicate-looking  eyebrows  as 
high  as  he  was  able,  letting  fall  his  glass  at  the  same 
moment  from  the  corner  of  his  eye ;  and,  while  he  adjusted 
his  stock  at  the  glass,  lisped  out,  — 

"  Ah  —  yes  —  very  happy.  In  the  Guards,  I  think. 
Know  Douglas,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  very  slightly." 

"  When  did  you  come,  —  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  last  night." 

"  Must  have  got  a  buffeting  ;  blew  very  fresh.  You  don't 
happen  to  know  the  odds  on  the  Oaks  ?  " 

"  Hecate,  they  say,  is  falling.  I  rather  heard  a  good 
account  of  the  mare." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  he,  while  his  cold  inanimate  features 
brightened  up  with  a  momentary  flush  of  excitement. 
"  Take  you  five  to  two,  or  give  you  the  odds,  you  don't 
name  the  winner  on  the  double  event." 


38 


JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


A  look  from  O' Grady  decided  me  at  once  on  declining 
the  proffered  wager ;  and  his  Lordship  once  more  returned 
to  the  mirror  and  his  self-admiration. 

"  I  say,  O'Grady,  do  come  here  for  a  minute.  What  the 
deuce  can  that  be  ?  " 

Here  an  immoderate  fit  of  laughter  from  his  Lordship 
brought  us  both  to  the  window.     The  figure  to  which  his 

attention  was  directed  was 
certainly  not  a  little  remark- 
able. Mounted  upon  an  ani- 
mal of  the  smallest  possible 
dimensions,  sat,  or  rather 
stood,  the  figure  of  a  tall, 
gaunt,  raw-boned  looking 
man,  in  a  livery  of  the  gaudi- 
est blue  and  yellow,  his  hat 
garnished  with  silver  lace, 
while  long  tags  of  the  same 
material  were  festooned 
gracefully  from  his  shoidder 
to  his  breast ;  his  feet  nearly 
touched  the  ground,  and  gave 
him  rather  the  appearance  of 
one  progressing  with  a  pony 
between  his  legs  than  of  a 
figure  on  horseback  He  carried  under  one  arm  a  leather 
pocket,  like  a  despatch-bag;  and  as  he  sauntered  slowly 
about,  with  his  eyes  directed  hither  and  thither,  seemed 
like  some  one  in  search  of  some  unknown  locality. 

The  roar  of  laughter  which  issued  from  our  window  drew 
his  attention  to  that  quarter,  and  he  immediately  touched 
his  hat,  while  a  look  of  pleased  recognition  played  across 
his  countenance. 

"  Holloa,  Tim  !  "  cried  O'Grady  ;  "  what 's  in  the  wind 
now  ?  " 

Tim's  answer  was  inaudible ;  but  inserting  his  hand  into 
the  leathern  conveniency  already  mentioned,  he  drew  forth 
a  card  of  most  portentous  dimensions.  By  this  time  Corny's 
voice  could  be  heard  joining  the  conversation. 


THE   BREAKFAST.  39 

"  Arrah,  give  it  here,  and  don't  be  making  a  baste  of  your- 
self! Isn't  the  very  battle-ax  guards  laughing  at  you? 
I  'in  sure  I  wonder  how  a  Christian  would  make  a  merry 
andrew  of  himself  by  wearing  such  clothes  ;  you  're  more 
like  a  play-actor  nor  a  respectable  servant." 

With  these  words  he  snatched,  rather  thau  accepted,  the 
proffered  card ;  and  Tim,  with  another  flourish  of  his  hat, 
and  a  singularly  droll  grin,  meant  to  convey  his  apprecia- 
tion of  Cross  Corny,  plunged  the  spurs  till  his  legs  met 
under  the  belly  of  the  little  animal,  and  cantered  out  of 
the  courtyard  amid  the  laughter  of  the  bystanders,  in 
which  even  the  sentinels  on  duty  could  not  refrain  from 
participating. 

"  What  the  devil  can  it  be  ?  "  cried  Lord  Dudley  ;  "  he 
evidently  knows  you,  O'Grady." 

••  And  you,  too,  my  lord  ;  his  master  has  helped  you  to  a 
cool  hundred  or  two  more  than  once  before  now." 

"  Eh  —  what  —  you  don't  say  so  !  Not  our  worthy  friend 
Paul  —  eh  ?  Why,  confound  it,  I  never  should  have  known 
Timothy  in  that  dress." 

"No,"  said  O'Grady,  slyly;  "I  acknowledge  it  is  not 
exactly  his  costume  when  he  serves  a  latitat." 

"  Ah,  ha  !  "  cried  the  other,  trying  to  laugh  at  the  joke, 
which  he  felt  too  deeply,  "I  thought  I  knew  the  pony, 
though.  Old  three-and-fourpence ;  his  infernal  canter  al- 
ways sounds  in  my  ears  like  the  jargon  of  a  bill  of  costs." 

"  Here  comes  Corny,"  said  O'Grady.  "  What  have  you 
got  there  ?  " 

"  There,  't  is  for  you,"  replied  he,  throwing,  with  an  air 
of  the  most  profound  disdain  a  large  card  upon  the  table  ; 
while,  as  he  left  the  room,  he  muttered  some  very  saga- 
cious reflections  about  the  horrors  of  low  company ;  his 
father,  the  judge,  the  best  in  the  land ;  riotous,  disor- 
derly life,  — the  whole  concluded  with  an  imprecation  upon 
Heathens  and  Turks,  with  which  he  managed  to  accomplish 
his  exit. 

"  Capital,  by  Jove !  "  said  Lord  Dudley,  as  he  surveyed 
the  card  with  his  glass.     "  'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney  pre- 


40  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

sents ' —  the  devil  they  does  !  — '  presents  their  compliments, 
and  requests  the  honor  of  Captain  O'Grady's  company  at 
dinner  on  Friday,  the  8th,  at  half-past  seven  o'clock.' 
How  good !  glorious,  by  Jove !  Eh,  O'Grady !  you  are 
a  sure  ticket  there ;  l'ami  de  la  maison  ?  " 

O'Grady's  cheek  became  red  at  these  words  ;  and  a  flash- 
ing expression  in  his  eyes  told  how  deeply  he  felt  them. 
He  turned  sharply  round,  his  lip  quivering  with  passion ; 
then  checking  himself  suddenly,  he  burst  into  an  affected 
laugh,  — 

"  You  '11  go,  too,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  ?  No,  faith.  They  caught  me  once  ;  but  then  the 
fact  was  a  protest  and  an  invitation  were  both  served 
on  me  together.  I  could  n't  accept  one,  so  I  did  the 
other." 

"Well,  I  must  confess,"  said  O'Grady,  in  a  firm,  resolute 
tone,  "  there  may  be  many  more  fashionable  people  than 
our  friends ;  but  I,  for  one,  scruple  not  to  say  I  have  re- 
ceived many  kindnesses  from  them,  and  am  deeply,  sin- 
cerely grateful." 

"  As  far  as  doing  a  bit  of  paper  now  and  then,  when  one 
is  hard  up,"  said  Lord  Dudley,  "  why,  perhaps,  I  'm  some- 
what of  your  mind ;  but  if  one  must  take  the  discount  out 
in  dinners,  it 's  an  infernal  bore." 

"  And  yet,"  said  O'Grady,  maliciously,  "  I  've  seen  your 
Lordship  tax  your  powers  to  play  the  agreeable  at  these 
same  dinners ;  and  I  think  your  memory  betrays  you  in 
supposing  you  have  only  been  there  once.  I  myself  have 
met  you  at  least  four  times." 

"  Only  shows  how  devilish  hard  up  I  must  have  been," 
was  the  cool  reply ;  "  but  now,  as  the  governor  begins  to 
behave  better,  I  think  I  '11  cut  Paul." 

"  I  'm  certain  you  will,"  said  O'Grady,  with  an  emphasis 
that  could  not  be  mistaken.  "  But,  come,  Hinton,  we  had 
better  be  moving.  There 's  some  stir  at  the  portico  yonder ; 
I  suppose  they  're  coming." 

At  this  moment  the  tramp  of  cavalry  announced  the 
arrival  of  the  guard  of  honor.     The  drums  beat ;  the  troops 


THE   BREAKFAST.  41 

stood  to  arms,  and  we  had  barely  time  to  mount  our  horses, 
when  the  viceregal  party  took  their  places  in  the  carriages, 
and  we  all  set  out  for  the  Phoenix. 

"Confess,  Hinton:  it  is  worth  while  being  a  soldier  to  be 
in  Ireland." 

This  was  O'Grady's  observation  as  we  rode  down  Par- 
liament Street,  beside  the  carriage  of  the  viceroy.  It 
was  the  first  occasion  of  a  field-day  since  the  arrival  of 
his  Excellency,  and  all  Dublin  was  on  the  tiptoe  of  expec- 
tation at  the  prospect.  Handkerchiefs  were  waved  from 
the  windows ;  streamers  and  banners  floated  from  the 
house-tops ;  patriotic  devices  and  allegoric  representations 
of  Erin  sitting  at  a  plentiful  board,  opposite  an  elderly 
gentleman  with  a  ducal  coronet,  met  us  at  every  turn  of 
the  way.  The  streets  were  literally  crammed  with  peo- 
ple. The  band  played  "  Patrick's  Day ; "  the  mob  shouted ; 
his  Grace  bowed;  and  down  to  Phil  O'Grady  himself,  who 
winked  at  the  pretty  girls  as  he  passed,  there  did  not  seem 
an  unoccupied  man  in  the  whole  procession.  On  we  went, 
following  the  line  of  the  quays,  threading  our  way  through 
a  bare-legged,  ragged  population,  bawling  themselves  hoarse 
with  energetic  desires  for  prosperity  to  Ireland.  "Yes," 
thought  I,  as  I  looked  upon  the  worn,  dilapidated  houses, 
the  faded  and  b}rgone  equipages,  the  tarnished  finery  of 
better  days,  —  "  yes,  my  father  was  right ;  these  people  are 
very  different  from  their  neighbors  ;  their  very  prosperity 
has  an  air  quite  peculiar  to  itself."  Everything  attested  a 
state  of  poverty,  a  lack  of  trade,  a  want  of  comfort  and  of 
cleanliness ;  but  still  there  was  but  one  expression  preva- 
lent in  the  mass,  —  that  of  unbounded  good-humor  and 
gayety.  With  a  philosophy  quite  his  own,  poor  Paddy 
seemed  to  feel  a  reflected  pleasure  from  the  supposed  hap- 
piness of  those  around  him ;  the  fine  clothes,  the  gorgeous 
equipages,  the  prancing  chargers,  the  flowing  plumes,  — all, 
in  fact,  that  forms  the  appurtenances  of  wealth,  constitut- 
ing in  his  mind  a  kind  of  paradise  on  earth.  He  thought 
their  possessors  at  least  ought  to  be  happy,  and,  like  a  good- 
hearted  fellow,  he  was  glad  of  it  for  their  sakes. 


42  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

There  had  been  in  the  early  part  of  the  day  an  abortive 
effort  at  a  procession.  The  Lord  Mayor  and  the  Sheriffs, 
in  their  state  liveries,  had  gone  forth  with  a  proud  follow- 
ing of  their  fellow-citizens ;  but  a  manoeuvre,  which  hitherto 
had  been  supposed  exclusively  the  province  of  the  navy, 
was  here  employed  with  unbounded  success  ;  and  the  hack- 
ney coachmen,  by  "  cutting  the  line  "  in  several  places,  had 
completely  disorganized  the  procession,  which  now  pre- 
sented the  singular  spectacle  of  an  aldermanic  functionary, 
with  emblazoned  panels  and  bedizened  horses,  followed  by 
a  string  of  rackety  jaunting-cars,  or  a  noddy  with  its  four- 
teen insides.  Horsemen  there  were,  too,  in  abundance. 
Were  I  to  judge  from  the  spectacle  before  me,  I  should  say 
that  the  Irish  were  the  most  equestrian  people  of  the  globe ; 
and  at  what  a  pace  they  went!  Caring  little  or  nothing 
for  the  foot-passengers,  they  only  drew  rein  when  their 
blown  steeds  were  unable  to  go  farther,  and  then  dashed 
onward  like  a  charge,  amid  a  shower  of  oaths,  curses, 
and  imprecations,  half  drowned  in  the  laughter  that  burst 
on  every  side.  Deputations  there  were  also  from  various 
branches  of  trade,  entreating  their  Graces  to  wear  and  to 
patronize  the  manufacture  of  the  country,  and  to  conform 
in  many  respects  to  its  habits  and  customs,  —  by  all  of 
which,  in  my  then  ignorance,  I  could  only  understand  the 
vehement  desire  of  the  population  that  the  viceregal  court 
should  go  about  in  a  state  of  nature,  and  limit  their  diet 
to  poteen  and  potatoes. 

"Fine  sight  this,  Hinton!  Isn't  it  cheering?"  said 
O'Grady,  as  his  eye  beamed  with  pleasure  and  delight. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  I,  hesitatingly ;  "  but  don't  you  think 
if  they  wore  shoes  —  " 

"Shoes!"  repeated  he,  contemptuously;  "they'd  never 
suffer  such  restrictions  on  their  liberties.  Look  at  them ! 
they  are  the  fellows  to  make  soldiers  of !  The  only  fear  of 
half  rations  with  them  would  be  the  risk  of  indigestion." 

On  we  went,  a  strange  and  motley  mass,  —  the  only  grave 
faces  being  a  few  of  those  who  sat  in  gilded  coaches,  with 
embroidered  hammer-cloths  ;  while  every  half-naked  figure 


THE   BREAKFAST.  43 

that  flitted  past  had  a  countenance  of  reckless  jollity  and 
fun.  But  the  same  discrepancy  that  pervaded  the  people 
and  the  procession  was  visible  even  in  their  dwellings ;  and 
the  meanest  hovels  stood  side  by  side  with  the  public  and 
private  edifices  of  elegance  and  beauty. 

"  This,  certainly,"  thought  I,  "  is  a  strange  land,"  —  a 
reflection  I  had  reason  to  recur  to  more  than  once  in  my 
after  experience  of  Ireland. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    REVIEW    IN    THE    PHOENIX. 

Winding  along  the  quays,  we  crossed  an  old  and  dilapi- 
dated bridge  ;  and  after  traversing  some  narrow  and  ruinous- 
looking  streets,  we  entered  the  park,  and  at  length  reached 
the  Fifteen  Acres. 

The  carriages  were  drawn  up  in  line  ;  his  Grace's  led 
horses  were  ordered  up,  and  staff-officers  galloped  right 
and  left  to  announce  the  orders  for  the  troops  to  stand 
to  arms. 

As  the  duke  descended  from  his  carriage  he  caught  my 
eye,  and  turning  suddenly  towards  the  duchess,  said,  "  Let 
me  present  Mr.  Hinton  to  your  Grace." 

While  I  was  making  my  bows  and  acknowledgments  his 
Grace  put  his  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"  You  know  Lady  Killimore,  Hinton  ?  Never  mind,  it 's 
of  no  consequence.  You  see  her  carriage  yonder,  —  they 
have  made  some  blunder  in  the  road,  and  the  dragoons,  it 
seems,  wont  let  them  pass.  Just  canter  down  and  rescue 
them." 

"  Do,  pray,  Mr.  Hinton,"  added  the  duchess.  "  Poor  Lady 
Killimore  is  so  very  nervous  she  '11  be  terrified  to  death  if 
they  make  any  fuss.  Her  carriage  can  come  up  quite  close ; 
there  is  plenty  of  room." 

"  Now,  do  it  well,"  whispered  O'Grady ;  "  there  is  a  pretty 
girl  in  the  case.  It 's  your  first  mission ;  acquit  yourself 
with  credit." 

An  infernal  brass  band  playing  "Rule  Britannia"  within 
ten  paces  of  me,  the  buzz  of  voices,  the  crowd,  the  novelty  of 
the  situation,  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  — all  conspired 
to  addle  and  confuse  me ;  so  that  when  I  put  spurs  to  my 


THE  KEVIEW  IN  THE  PHCBNIX.  45 

horse  and  struck  out  into  a  gallop  I  had  no  very  precise  idea 
of  what  I  was  to  do,  and  not  the  slightest  upon  earth  of 
where  I  was  to  do  it. 

A  pretty  girl  in  a  carriage  beset  by  dragoons  was  to  be 

looked  for  ;  Lady  Kil somebody's  ecpaipage  —     "  Oh, 

I  have  it ;  there  they  are,"  said  I,  as  a  yellow  barouche, 
with  four  steaming  posters,  caught  my  eye  in  a  far  part  of 
the  field.  From  the  number  of  dragoons  that  surrounded  the 
carriage,  no  less  than  their  violent  gestures,  I  could  perceive 
that  an  altercation  had  taken  place  ;  pressing  my  horse  to 
the  top  of  his  speed,  I  flew  across  the  plain,  and  arrived 
flushed,  heated,  and  breathless  beside  the  carriage. 

A  large  and  strikingly  handsome  woman,  in  a  bonnet 
and  plumes  of  the  most  gaudy  and  showy  character,  was 
standing  upon  the  front  seat,  and  carrying  on  an  active 
and,  as  it  seemed,  acrimonious  controversy  with  the  ser- 
geant of  the  horse-police. 

"  You  must  go  back ;  can't  help  it,  ma'am ;  nothing 
but  members  of  the  household  can  pass  this  way." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  where  's  Captain  O'Grady  ?  Sure,  it 's  not 
possible  I  could  be  treated  this  way.  Paul,  take  that  man's 
name,  and  mind  you  have  him  dismissed  in  the  morning. 
Where  are  you,  Paul  ?  Ah,  he 's  gone  !  It  is  the  way  with 
him  always ;  and  there  you  sit,  Bob  Dwyer,  and  you  are  no 
more  good  than  a  stick  of  sealing-wax  ! " 

Here  a  suppressed  titter  of  laughter  from  the  back  of  the 
carriage  induced  me  to  turn  my  eyes  in  that  direction,  and 
I  beheld  one  of  the  most  beautiful  girls  I  ever  looked  at, 
holding  her  handkerchief  to  her  mouth  to  conceal  her 
laughter.  Her  dark  eyes  flashed  and  her  features  sparkled, 
while  a  blush  at  being  so  discovered,  if  possible,  added  to 
her  beauty. 

"All  right ! "  said  I  to  myself,  as  taking  off  my  hat  I  bowed 
to  the  very  mane  of  my  horse. 

"  If  your  Ladyship  will  kindly  permit  me,"  said  I,  "  his 
Grace  has  sent  me  to  show  you  the  way." 

The  dragoons  fell  back  as  I  spoke ;  the  horse-police 
looked  awfully  frightened  ;  while  the  lady,  whose  late  elo- 


46  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

quence  manifested  little  of  fear  or  trepidation,  threw  her- 
self back  in  the  carriage,  and  covering  her  face  with  a  hand- 
kerchief, sobbed  violently. 

"Ah,  the  duchess  said  she  was  nervous.  Poor  Lady 
Kil " 

"  Speak  to  me,  Louisa,  dear.  Who  is  it  ?  Is  it  Mr. 
Wellesley  Pole  ?     Is  it  —  " 

I  did  not  wait  for  a  further  supposition ;  but  in  a  most 
insinuating  voice,  added,  — 

"  Mr.  Hinton,  my  lady,  extra  aide-de-camp  on  his  Excel- 
lency's staff.  The  duchess  feared  you  would  be  nervous, 
and  hopes  you  '11  get  as  close  to  her  as  possible." 

"  Where  's  Paul  ?  "  said  the  lady,  once  more  recovering 
her  animation.     "  If  this  is  a  hoax,  young  gentleman  —  " 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  bowing  stiffly,  "  I  am  really  at  a  loss  to 
understand  your  meaning." 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  Mr.  Hilton." 

"  Hinton,  my  lady." 

"  Yes,  Hinton,"  said  she.  "lama  beast  to  mistrust  you, 
and  you  so  young  and  so  artless  :  the  sweetest  blue  eyes  I 
ever  looked  at." 

This  was  said  in  a  whisper  to  her  young  friend,  whose 
mirth  now  threatened  to  burst  forth. 

"  And  was  it  really  his  Royal  Highness  that  sent 
you  ?  " 

"  His  Grace,  my  lady,  I  assure  you,  despatched  me  to 
your  aid.  He  saw  your  carriage  through  his  glass,  and 
guessing  what  had  occurred,  directed  me  to  ride  over  and 
accompany  your  Ladyship  to  the  viceregal  stand." 

Poor  Lady  Kil 's  nervousness  again  seized  her,  and 

with  a  faint  cry  for  the  ever-absent  Paul,  she  went  off  into 
rather  smart  hysterics.  During  this  paroxysm  I  could  not 
help  feeling  somewhat  annoyed  at  the  young  lady's  con- 
duct, who,  instead  of  evincing  the  slightest  sympathy  for 
her  mother,  held  her  head  down,  and  seemed  to  shake  with 
laughter.  By  this  time,  however,  the  postilions  were 
again  under  way,  and  after  ten  minutes'  sharp  trotting  we 
entered  the  grand  stand,  with  whips  cracking,  ribbons  nut- 


THE  REVIEW   IN  THE   FIKENIX.  47 

tering,  and  I  myself  caracoling  beside  the  carriage  with  an 
air  of  triumphant  success. 

A  large  dusky  travelling  carriage  had  meanwhile  occu- 
pied the  place  the  duchess  designed  for  her  friend.  The 
only  thing  to  do,  therefore,  was  to  place  them  as  conve- 
niently as  I  could,  and  hasten  back  to  inform  her  Grace  of 
the  success  of  my  mission.  As  I  approached  her  carriage 
I  was  saluted  with  a  burst  of  laughter  from  the  staff,  in 
which  the  duke  himself  joined  most  extravagantly;  while 
O'Grady,  with  his  hands  on  his  sides,  threatened  to  fall 
from  the  saddle. 

u  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  ?  "  thought  I ;  "  I  did  n't 
bungle  it?" 

"  Tell  her  Grace,"  said  the  duke,  with  his  hand  upon  his 
mouth,  unable  to  finish  the  sentence  with  laughter. 

I  saw  something  was  wrong,  and  that  I  was  in  some 
infernal  scrape ;  still,  resolved  to  go  through  with  it,  I  drew 
near,  and  said, — 

"  I  am  happy  to  inform  your  Grace  that  —  " 

"  Lady  Kil is  here,"  said  the  duchess,  bowing  haugh- 
tily, as  she  turned  towards  a  spiteful-looking  dowager 
beside  her. 

Here  was  a  mess  !  So  bowing  and  backing,  I  dropped 
through  the  crowd  to  where  my  companions  still  stood  con- 
vulsed with  merriment. 

"  What,  in  the  devil's  name,  is  it  ?  "  said  I  to  O'Grady. 
"  Whom  have  I  been  escorting  this  half  hour  ?  " 

"  You  've  immortalized  yourself,"  said  O'Grady,  with  a 
roar  of  laughter.  "Your  bill  at  twelve  months  for  five 
hundred  pounds  is  as  good  this  moment  as  bank  paper." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  I,  losing  all  patience.  "  Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney.  my  boy,  the  gem  of  attorneys'  wives, 
the  glory  of  Stephen's  Green,  with  a  villa  at  Bray,  a  box  at 
the  theatre,  champagne  suppers  every  night  in  the  week, 
dinners  promiscuously,  and  lunch  a  discretion, — there's 
glory  for  you !  You  may  laugh  at  a  latitat,  sneer  at  the 
King's  Bench,  and  snap  your  fingers  at  any  process-server 
from  here  to  Kilmainham  ! " 


48  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  May  the  devil  fly  away  with  her  ! "  said  I,  wiping  my 
forehead  with  passion  and  excitement. 

"  The  heavens  forbid !  "  said  O'Grady,  piously.  "  Our 
exchequer  may  be  guilty  of  many  an  extravagance,  but  it 
could  not  permit  such  a  flight  as  that.  It  is  evident, 
Hinton,  that  you  did  not  see  the  pretty  girl  beside  her  in 
the  carriage." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  saw  her,"  said  I,  biting  my  lip  with  im- 
patience, "and  she  seemed  evidently  enjoying  the  infernal 
blunder  I  was  committing.  And  Mrs.  Paul  —  oh,  confound 
her  !     I  can  never  endure  the  sight  of  her  again ! " 

"My  dear  young  friend,"  replied  O'Grady,  with  an 
affected  seriousness,  "  I  see  that  already  the  prejudices  of 
your  very  silly  countrymen  have  worked  their  effect  upon 
you.  Had  not  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  given  you  such  a  pic- 
ture of  the  Rooney  family,  you  would  probably  be  much 
more  lenient  in  your  judgment;  besides,  after  all,  the  error 
was  yours,  not  hers.  You  told  her  that  the  duke  had  sent 
you ;  you  told  her  the  duchess  wished  her  carriage  beside 
her  own." 

"  You  take  a  singular  mode,"  said  I,  pettishly,  "  to  bring 
a  man  back  to  a  good  temper,  by  showing  him  that  he  has 
no  one  to  blame  for  his  misfortunes  but  himself.  Confound 
them  !  look  how  they  are  all  laughing  about  us !  Indeed, 
from  the  little  I  've  seen,  it  is  the  only  thing  they  appear 
to  do  in  this  country." 

At  a  signal  from  the  duke,  O'Grady  put  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  cantered  down  the  line,  leaving  me  to  such  reflections 
as  I  could  form  beneath  the  gaze  of  some  forty  persons, 
who  could  not  turn  to  look  without  laughing  at  me. 

"  This  is  pleasant,"  thought  I,  "this  is  really  a  happy  d6but, 
—  that  I,  whose  unimpeachable  accuracy  of  manner  and  ad- 
dress should  have  won  for  me,  at  the  prince's  levee,  the 
approbation  of  the  first  gentleman  of  Europe,  should  here, 
among  these  semi-civilized  savages,  become  an  object  of  ridi- 
cule and  laughter ! "  My  father  had  told  me  they  were  very 
different;  and  my  mother  —  I  had  not  patience  to  think  of 
the  frightful   effects  my  absurd  situation   might   produce 


THE   REVIEW  IN  THE  PHOENIX.  49 

upon  her  nerves.  Lady  Julia,  too,  —  ah,  there  's  the  rub !  — 
my  beautiful  cousin,  who  in  the  slightest  solecism  of  Lorn 
don  manners  could  find  matter  for  sarcasm  and  raillery,  — 
what  would  she  think  of  me.  now  ?  And  this  it  is  they  per- 
suaded me  to  prefer  to  active  service !  What  wound  to 
a  man's  flesh  could  equal  one  to  his  feelings  ?  "I  would 
rather  be  condoled  with  than  scoffed  at,  any  day ;  and  see, 
by  Jove,  they  're  laughing  still !  I  would  wager  a  fifty  that 
I  furnish  the  dinner  conversation  for  every  table  in  the 
capital  this  day." 

The  vine-twig  shows  not  more  ingenuity  as  it  traverses 
some  rocky  crag  in  search  of  the  cool  stream,  at  once  its 
luxury  and  its  life,  than  does  our  injured  self-love  in  seek- 
ing for  consolation  from  the  inevitable  casualties  of  fate 
and  the  irresistible  strokes  of  fortune !  Thus  I  found  com- 
fort in  the  thought  that  the  ridicule  attached  to  me  rather 
proceeded  from  the  low  standard  of  manners  and  habits 
about  me  than  from  anything  positively  absurd  in  m}'  posi- 
tion ;  and  in  my  warped  and  biassed  imagination  I  actually 
preferred  the  insolent  insipidity  of  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere 
to  the  hearty  raciness  and  laughter-loving  spirit  of  Phil 
O'Grady. 

My  reflections  were  now  cut  short  by  the  order  for  the 
staff  to  mount,  and,  following  the  current  of  my  present 
feelings,  I  drew  near  to  Lord  Dudley,  in  whose  emptiness 
and  inanity  I  felt  a  degree  of  security  from  sarcasm 
that  I  could  by  no  means  be  so  confident  of  in  O'Grady's 
company. 

Amid  the  thunder  of  cannon,  the  deafening  roll  of  drums, 
the  tramp  of  cavalry,  and  the  measured  foot-fall  of  the 
infantry  columns,  these  thoughts  rapidly  gave  way  to 
others,  and  I  soon  forgot  myself  in  the  scene  around  me. 
The  sight,  indeed,  was  an  inspiriting  one ;  for  although 
but  the  mockery  of  glorious  war,  to  my  unpractised  eye  the 
deception  was  delightful.  The  bracing  air,  the  bright  sky, 
the  scenery  itself,  lent  their  aid,  and  in  the  brilliant  pano- 
rama before  me  I  soon  regained  my  light-heartedness,  and 
felt  happy  as  before. 

VOL.  I.  —  4 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

THE    SHAM    BATTLE. 

I  have  mentioned  in  my  last  chapter  how  very  rapidly  I 
forgot  my  troubles  in  the  excitement  of  the  scene  around 
me.  Indeed,  they  must  have  been  much  more  important, 
much  deeper  woes,  to  have  occupied  any  place  in  a  head  so 
addled  and  confused  as  mine  was.  The  manoeuvres  of  the 
day  included  a  sham  battle ;  and  scarcely  had  his  Excellency 
passed  down  the  line,  when  preparations  for  the  engage- 
ment began.  The  heavy  artillery  was  seen  to  limber  up 
and  move  slowly  across  the  field,  accompanied  by  a  strong 
detachment  of  cavalry ;  columns  of  infantry  were  marched 
hither  and  thither  with  the  most  pressing  ani  eager  haste; 
orderly  dragoons  and  staff-officers  galloped  to  and  fro  like 
madmen;  red-faced,  plethoric  little  colonels  bawled  out 
the  word  of  command,  till  one  feared  they  might  burst  a 
blood-vessel ;  and  already  two  companies  of  light  infantry 
might  be  seen  stealing  cautiously  along  the  skirts  of  the 
wood,  with  the  apparently  insidious  design  of  attacking  a 
brigade  of  guns. 

As  for  me,  I  was  at  one  moment  employed  carrying 
despatches  to  Sir  Charles  Asgill,  at  another  conveying  in- 
telligence to  Lord  Harrington,  —  these,  be  it  known,  being 
the  rival  commanders,  whose  powers  of  strategy  were  now 
to  be  tested  before  the  assembled  and  discriminating  citi- 
zens of  Dublin.  Not  to  speak  of  the  eminent  personal 
hazard  of  a  service  which  required  me  constantly  to  ride 
between  the  lines  of  contending  armies,  the  fatigue  alone 
had  nigh  killed  me.  Scarcely  did  I  appear  breathless 
at  headcpiarters  on  my  return  from  one  mission  when  I 
was  despatched  on   another.     Tired  and  panting,  I  more 


THE   SHAM  BATTLE.  51 

than  once  bungled  my  directions,  and  communicated  to  Sir 
Charles  the  secret  intentions  of  his  Lordship,  while  with  a 
laudable  impartiality  I  disarranged  the  former's  plans  by 
a  total  misconception  of  the  orders.  Fatigue,  noise,  cha- 
grin, and  incessant  worry  had  so  completely  turned  my 
head  that  I  became  perfectly  incapable  of  the  commonest 
exercises  of  reason.  Part  of  the  artillery  I  ordered  into  a 
hollow,  where  I  was  told  to  station  a  party  of  riflemen. 
Three  squadrons  of  cavalry  I  desired  to  charge  up  a 
hill,  which  the  Seventy-first  Highlanders  were  to  have 
scrambled  up  if  they  were  able.  Light  dragoons  I  posted 
in  situations  so  beset  with  brushwood  and  firs  that  all 
movement  became  impossible ;  and,  in  a  word,  when  the 
signal-gun  announced  the  commencement  of  the  action,  my 
mistakes  had  introduced  such  a  new  feature  into  tactics 
that  neither  party  knew  what  his  adversary  was  at,  nor 
indeed  had  any  accurate  notion  of  which  were  his  own 
troops.  The  duke,  who  had  watched  with  the  most  eager 
satisfaction  the  whole  of  my  proceedings,  sat  laughing 
upon  his  horse  till  the  very  tears  coursed  down  his  cheeks ; 
and  as  all  the  staff  were  more  or  less  participators  in  the 
secret,  I  found  myself  once  more  the  centre  of  a  grinning 
audience,  perfectly  convulsed  at  my  exploits. 

Meanwhile,  the  guns  thundered,  the  cavalry  charged,  the 
infantry  poured  in  a  rattling  roar  of  small  arms  ;  while  the 
luckless  commanders,  unable  to  discover  any  semblance  of 
a  plan,  and,  still  worse,  not  knowing  where  one  half  their 
forces  were  concealed,  dared  not  adventure  upon  a  move- 
ment, and  preferred  trusting  to  the  smoke  of  the  battle  as  a 
cover  for  their  blunders.  The  fusilade,  therefore,  was  hotly 
sustained,  all  the  heavy  pieces  brought  to  the  front ;  and 
while  the  spectators  were  anxiously  looking  for  the  manoeu- 
vres of  a  fight,  the  ammunition  was  waxing  low,  and  the 
day  wearing  apace.  Dissatisfaction  at  length  began  to 
show  itself  on  every  side  ;  and  the  duke  assuming,  as  well 
as  he  was  able,  somewhat  of  a  disappointed  look,  the  un- 
happy generals  made  a  final  effort  to  retrieve  their  mishaps, 
and  aides-de-camp  were  despatched  through  all  the  highways 


52  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

and  byways  to  bring  up  whoever  they  could  find  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

Now  then  began  such  a  scene  as  few  even  of  the  oldest 
campaigners  ever  witnessed  the  equal  of.  From  every 
dell  and  hollow,  from  every  brake  and  thicket,  burst  forth 
some  party  or  other,  who  up  to  this  moment  believed  them- 
selves lying  in  ambush.  Horse,  foot,  and  dragoons, 
artillery,  sappers,  light  infantry,  and  grenadiers,  rushed 
forward  wherever  chance  or  their  bewildered  officers  led 
them.  Here  might  be  seen  one  half  of  a  regiment  blazing 
away  at  a  stray  company  of  their  own  people  running  like 
devils  for  shelter ;  here  some  squadrons  of  horse,  who,  in- 
dignant at  tbeir  fruitless  charges  and  unmeaning  move- 
ments, now  doggedly  dismounted,  were  standing  right  be- 
fore a  brigade  of  twelve-pounders,  thundering  mercilessly 
amongst  them.  Never  wras  witnessed  such  a  scene  of  riot, 
confusion,  and  disorder.  Colonels  lost  their  regiments, 
regiments  their  colonels.  The  fusiliers  captured  the  band 
of  the  Royal  Irish,  and  made  them  play  through  the  heat 
of  the  engagement.  Those  who  at  first  expressed  ennui 
and  fatigue  at  the  sameness  and  monotony  of  the  scene 
were  now  gratified  to  the  utmost  by  its  life,  bustle,  and 
animation.  Elderly  citizens  in  drab  shorts  and  buff  waist- 
coats explained  to  their  listening  wives  and  urchins  the 
plans  and  intentions  of  the  rival  heroes,  pronouncing  the 
whole  thing  the  while  the  very  best  field-day  that  ever  was 
seen  in  the  Phoenix. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  confusion  a  new  element  of  dis- 
cord suddenly  displayed  itself.  That  loyal  corps,  the  Cork 
militia,  who  were  ordered  up  to  attack  close  to  where  the 
duke  and  his  staff  were  standing,  deemed  that  no  better 
moment  could  be  chosen  to  exhibit  their  attachment  to 
Church  and  State  than  when  marching  on  to  glory,  struck 
up  with  all  the  discord  of  their  band  the  redoubted  air  of 
"Protestant  Boys."  The  cheer  burst  from  the  ranks  as 
the  loyal  strains  filled  the  air ;  but  scarcely  had  the  loud 
burst  subsided,  when  the  Louth  militia  advanced  with  a 
quick-step,  their  fifes  playing  "Vinegar  Hill." 


THE   SHAM  BATTLE.  53 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  rivalry  created  a  perfect  roar 
of  laughter;  but  this  very  soon  gave  way,  as  the  two  regi- 
ments, instead  of  drawing  up  at  a  reasonable  distance  for 
the  interchange  of  an  amicable  blank  cartridge,  rushed 
down  upon  each  other  with  the  fury  of  madmen.  So  sud- 
den, so  impetuous  was  the  encounter  that  all  effort  to  prevent 
it  was  impracticable.  Muskets  were  clubbed  or  bayonets 
fixed,  and  in  a  moment  really  serious  battle  was  engaged,  — 
the  musicians  on  each  side  encouraging  their  party,  as  they 
racked  their  brains  for  party  tunes  of  the  most  bitter  and 
taunting  character;  while  cries  of  "Down  with  King  Wil- 
liam ! "  "  To  hell  with  the  Pope ! "  rose  alternately  from 
either  side. 

How  far  this  spirit  might  have  extended  it  is  difficult  to 
say,  when  the  duke  gave  orders  for  some  squadrons  of 
cavalry  to  charge  down  upon  them,  and  separate  the  con- 
tending forces.  This  order  was  fortunately  in  time;  for 
scarcely  was  it  issued,  when  a  west-country  yeomanry  corps 
came  galloping  up  to  the  assistance  of  the  brave  Louth. 

"  Here  we  are,  boys  !  "  cried  Mike  Westropp,  their  col- 
onel. "  Here  we  are  !  Lave  the  way  !  lave  the  way  for  us  ! 
and  we  '11  ride  down  the  murthering  Orange  villains,  every 
man  of  them  !  " 

The  Louth  fell  back,  and  the  yeomen  came  forward  at  a 
charge,  Westropp  standing  high  in  his  stirrups  and  flour- 
ishing his  sabre  above  his  head.  It  was  just  then  that  a 
heavy  brigade  of  artillery,  unconscious  of  the  hot  work  go- 
ing forward,  was  ordered  to  open  their  fire  upon  the  Louth 
militia.  One  of  the  guns  by  some  accident  contained  an 
undue  proportion  of  wadding,  and  to  this  casual  circum- 
stance may  in  a  great  degree  be  attributed  the  happy  is- 
sue of  what  threatened  to  be  a  serious  disturbance ;  for  as 
Westropp  advanced,  cheering  and  encouraging  his  men.  lie 
received  this  wadding  slap  in  his  face.  Down  he  tumbled  at 
once,  rolling  over  and  over  with  the  shock  ;  while,  believing 
that  he  had  got  his  death  wound,  he  bellowed  out,  — 

"  Oh,  blessed  Virgin  !  there  's  threason  in  the  camp !  Hit 
in  the  face  by  a  four-pounder,  by  Jove  I    Oh,  Duke  darling ! 


54  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Oh,  your  Grace  !  oh,  holy  Joseph  !  look  at  this  !  Oh,  bad 
luck  to  the  arthillery  for  spoiling  a  fair  fight !  Peter,"  — 
this  was  the  major  of  the  regiment,  —  "  Peter  Darcy,  gallop 
into  town,  and  lodge  informations  against  the  brigade  of 
guns !     I  '11  be  dead  before  you  come  back." 

A  perfect  burst  of  laughter  broke  from  the  opposing  ranks, 
and  while  his  friends  crowded  round  the  discomfited  leader, 
the  rival  bands  united  in  a  roar  of  merriment  that  for  a 
moment  caused  a  suspension  of  hostilities.  For  a  moment, 
I  say ;  for  scarcely  had  the  gallant  Westropp  been  con- 
veyed to  the  rear,  when  once  more  the  bands  struck  up 
their  irritating  strains,  and  preparations  for  a  still  more 
deadly  encounter  were  made  on  every  side.  The  matter 
now  assumed  so  serious  an  aspect  that  the  duke  was  obliged 
himself  to  interfere,  and  order  both  parties  off  the  ground, 
—  the  Cork  deploying  towards  the  Lodge,  while  the  brave 
Louth  marched  off  with  banners  flying  and  drums  beating 
in  the  direction  of  Knockmaroon. 

These  movements  were  conducted  with  a  serio-comic 
solemnity  of  the  most  ludicrous  kind;  and  although  the 
respect  for  viceregal  authority  was  great,  and  the  military 
devotion  of  each  party  strong,  yet  neither  one  nor  the  other 
was  sufficient  to  prevent  the  more  violent  on  both  sides 
from  occasionally  turning,  as  they  went,  to  give  expres- 
sion to  some  taunting  allusion  or  some  galling  sarcasm, 
well  calculated,  did  the  opportunity  permit,  to  renew  the 
conflict. 

A  hearty  burst  of  laughter  from  the  duke  indicated 
pretty  clearly  how  he  regarded  the  matter;  and  however 
the  grave  and  significant  looks  of  others  might  seem  to 
imply  that  there  was  more  in  the  circumstance  than  mere 
food  for  mirth,  he  shook  his  sides  merrily ;  and  as  his 
bright  eye  glistened  with  satisfaction  and  his  cheek  glowed, 
he  could,  not  help  whispering  his  regret  that  his  station 
compelled  him  to  check  the  very  best  joke  he  ever  witnessed 
in  his  life. 

'•'This  is  hot  work,  Sir  Charles,"  said  he,  wiping  his  fore- 
head as  he  spoke ;    "  and  as  it  is  now  past  three  o'clock, 


THE   SHAM  BATTLE.  55 

and  we  have  a  privy  council  at  four,  I  fear  I  must  leave 
you." 

"  The  troops  will  move  past  in  marching  order,"  replied 
Sir  Charles,  pompously :  "  will  your  Grace  receive  the  salute 
at  this  point  ?  " 

"  Wherever  you  like,  Sir  Charles  ;  wherever  you  like. 
Would  to  Heaven  that  some  good  Samaritan  could  afford 
me  a  little  brandy  and  water  from  his  canteen!  I  say, 
Hinton,  they  seem  at  luncheon  yonder  in  that  carriage  : 
do  you  think  your  diplomacy  could  negotiate  a  glass  of 
sherry  for  me  ?  " 

"If  you'll  permit  me,  my  lord,  I'll  try,"  said  I,  as,  dis- 
engaging myself  from  the  crowd,  I  set  off  in  the  direction 
he  pointed. 

As  I  drew  near  the  carriage,  —  from  which  the  horses 
having  been  taken,  was  drawn  up  beside  a  clump  of  beech- 
trees  for  the  sake  of  shelter,  —  I  was  not  long  in  perceiving 
that  it  was  the  same  equipage  I  had  so  gallantly  rescued  in 
the  morning  from  the  sabres  of  the  horse-police.  Had  I 
entertained  any  fears  for  the  effects  of  the  nervous  shock 
upon  the  tender  sensibilities  of  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney,  the  scene 
before  me  must  completely  have  dispelled  my  uneasiness. 
Never  did  a  merrier  peal  of  laughter  ring  from  female  lungs 
than  hers  as  I  rode  forward.  Seated  in  the  back  of  the 
carriage,  the  front  cushion  of  which  served  as  a  kind  of 
table,  sat  the  lady  in  question.  One  hand,  resting  upon 
her  knee,  held  a  formidable  carving-fork,  on  the  summit  of 
which  vibrated  the  short  leg  of  a  chicken  ;  in  the  other  she 
grasped  a  silver  vessel,  which,  were  I  to  predicate  from  the 
froth,  I  fear  I  should  pronounce  to  be  porter.  A  luncheon 
on  the  most  liberal  scale  displayed,  in  all  the  confusion  and 
disorder  inseparable  from  such  a  situation,  a  veal-pie,  cold 
lamb,  tongue,  chickens,  and  sandwiches  ;  drinking  vessels  of 
every  shape  and  material ;  a  smelling-bottle  full  of  mustard, 
and  a  newspaper  paragraph  full  of  salt.  Abundant  as  were 
the  viands,  the  guests  were  not  wanting.  Crowds  of  infan- 
try officers,  flushed  with  victory  or  undismayed  by  defeat^ 
hobnobbed  from  the  rumble  to  the  box  ;    the  steps,  the 


56  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

springs,  the  very  splinterbar  had  its  occupant ;  and,  truly, 
a  merrier  party,  or  a  more  convival,  it  were  difficult  to 
conceive. 

So  environed  was  Mrs.  Rooney  by  her  friends  that  I  was 
enabled  to  observe  them  sometime,  myself  unseen. 

"  Captain  Mitchell,  another  wing  ?  Well,  the  least  taste 
in  life  of  the  breast  ?  Bob  Dwyer,  will  ye  never  have  done 
drawing  that  cork  ?  " 

Now,  this  I  must  aver  was  an  unjust  reproach,  inasmuch 
as,  to  my  own  certain  knowledge,  he  had  accomplished  three 
feats  of  that  nature  in  about  as  many  minutes ;  and  had 
the  aforesaid  Bob  been  reared  from  his  infancy  in  drawing 
corks  instead  of  declarations,  his  practice  could  not  have 
been  more  expert.  Pop,  pop,  they  went ;  glug,  glug,  glug, 
flowed  the  bubbling  liquor,  as  sherry,  shrub,  cold  punch, 
and  bottled  porter  succeeded  one  another  in  rapid  order. 
Simpering  ensigns,  with  elevated  eyebrows,  insinuated  non- 
sense, soft,  vapid,  and  unmeaning  as  their  own  brains,  as 
they  helped  themselves  to  ham  or  dived  into  the  pastry ; 
while  a  young  dragoon,  who  seemed  to  devote  his  atten- 
tion to  Mrs.  Rooney's  companion,  amused  himself  by  con- 
stant endeavors  to  stroke  down  a  growing  mustache,  whose 
downy  whiteness  resembled  nothing  that  I  know  of  save 
the  ill-omened  fur  one  sees  on  an  antiquated  apple-pie. 

As  I  looked  on  every  side  to  catch  a  glance  at  him  whom 
I  should  suppose  to  be  Mr.  Rooney,  I  was  myself  detected  by 
the  watchful  eye  of  Bob  Dwyer,  who,  at  that  moment  having 
his  mouth  full  of  three  hard  eggs,  was  nearly  asphyxiated 
in  his  endeavors  to  telegraph  my  approach  to  Mrs.  Paul. 

"  The  edge-du-cong,  by  the  mortial ! "  said  he,  sputtering 
out  the  words,  as  his  bloodshot  eyes  nearly  bolted  out  of 
his  head. 

Had  I  been  a  Bengal  tiger,  my  advent  might  have  caused 
less  alarm.  The  officers,  not  knowing  if  the  duke  himself 
were  coming,  wiped  their  lips,  resumed  their  caps  and  shakos, 
and  sprang  to  the  ground  in  dismay  and  confusion ;  as  Mrs. 
Rooney  herself,  with  an  adroitness  an  Indian  juggler  might 
have  envied,  plunged  the  fork,  drumstick  and  all,  into  the 


THE   SHAM  BATTLE.  57 

recesses  of  her  muff,  while  with  a  back  hand  she  decanted 
the  XX  upon  a  bald  major  of  infantry,  who  was  brush- 
ing the  crumbs  from  his  facings.  One  individual  alone 
seemed  to  relish  and  enjoy  the  discomfiture  of  the  others. 
This  was  the  young  lady  whom  I  before  remarked,  and  whose 
whole  air  and  appearance  seemed  strangely  at  variance  with 
everything  around  her.  She  gave  free  current  to  her  mirth ; 
while  Mrs.  Paul,  now  suddenly  restored  to  a  sense  of  her 
nervous  constitution,  fell  back  in  the  carriage,  and  appeared 
bent  upon  a  scene. 

"You  caught  us  enjoying  ourselves,  Mr.  Stilton  —  " 

"  Hinton,  if  you  '11  allow  me,  Madam." 

"Ay,  to  be  sure;  Mr.  Hinton, — taking  a  little  snack, 
which  I  am  sure  you  'd  be  the  better  of  after  the  fatigues  of 
the  day." 

"  Eh,  au,  au !  a  devilish  good  luncheon,"  chimed  in  a  pale 
sub,  the  first  who  ventured  to  pluck  up  his  courage. 

"Would  a  sandwich  tempt  you,  with  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne ?  "  said  Mrs.  Paul,  with  the  blandest  of  smiles. 

"  I  can  recommend  the  lamb,  sir,"  said  a  voice  behind. 

"  Begad,  I  '11  vouch  for  the  porter,"  said  the  major.  "  I 
only  hope  it  is  a  good  cosmetic." 

"  It 's  a  beautiful  thing  for  the  hair,"  said  Mrs.  Kooney, 
half  venturing  upon  a  joke. 

"No  more  on  that  head,  ma'am,"  said  the  little  major, 
bowing  pompously. 

By  this  time,  thanks  to  the  assiduous  attentions  of  Bob 
Dwyer,  I  was  presented  with  a  plate,  which,  had  I  been  an 
anaconda  instead  of  an  aide-de  camp,  might  have  satisfied 
my  appetite.  A  place  was  made  for  me  in  the  carriage ; 
and  the  faithful  Bob,  converting  the  skirt  of  his  princi- 
pal blue  into  a  grass-cloth,  polished  a  wine-glass  for  my 
private  use. 

"  Let  me  introduce  my  young  friend,  Mr.  Hinton,"  said 
Mrs.  Paul,  with  a  graceful  wave  of  her  jewelled  hand 
towards  her  companion.  "Miss  Louisa  Bellew,  only 
daughter  of  Sir  Simon  Bellew,  of  —  "  what  the  place  was 
I  could  not  well   hear,  but  it  sounded  confoundedly  like 


58  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Killhiraan-smotheruin,  —  "a  beautiful  place  in  the  county 
Mayo.     Bob,  is  it  punch  you  are  giving  ? " 

"  Most  excellent,  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Rooney." 

"And  how  is  the  duke,  sir?  I  hope  his  Grace  enjoys 
good  health.     He  is  a  darling  of  a  man." 

By-the-bye,  it  is  perfectly  absurd  the  sympathy  your 
third  or  fourth-rate  people  feel  in  the  health  and  habits 
of  those  above  them  in  station,  —  pleased  as  they  are  to 
learn  the  most  commonplace  and  worthless  trifles  concern- 
ing them,  and  happy  when  by  any  chance  some  acci- 
dental similitude  would  seem  to  exist  even  between  their 
misfortunes. 

"  And  the  dear  duchess,"  resumed  Mrs.  Rooney,  "  she 's 
troubled  with  the  nerves  like  myself.  Ah,  Mr.  Hinton, 
what  an  affliction  it  is  to  have  a  sensitive  nature  !  —  that 's 
what  I  often  say  to  my  sweet  young  friend  here.  It's 
better  for  her  to  be  the  gay,  giddy,  thoughtless,  happy 
thing  she  is  than  — "  Here  the  lady  sighed,  wiped  her 
eyes,  flourished  her  cambric,  and  tried  to  look  like  Agnes 
in  the  "  Bleeding  Nun."  "  But  here  they  come !  You  don't 
know  Mr.  Rooney  ?     Allow  me  to  introduce  him  to  you." 

As  she  spoke,  0' Grady  cantered  up  to  the  carriage,  accom- 
panied by  a  short,  pursy,  round-faced  little  man,  who,  with 
his  hat  set  knowingly  on  one  side,  and  his  top-boots  scarce 
reaching  to  the  middle  of  the  leg,  bestrode  a  sharp,  strong- 
boned  hackney,  with  cropped  ears  and  short  tail.  He  car- 
ried in  his  hand  a  hunting-whip,  and  seemed,  by  his  seat  in 
the  saddle  and  the  easy  finger  upon  the  bridle,  no  indiffer- 
ent horseman. 

"Mr.  Rooney,"  said  the  lady,  drawing  herself  up  with 
a  certain  austerity  of  manner,  "  I  wish  you  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Hinton,  the  aide-de-camp  to  his 
Grace." 

Mr.  Rooney  lifted  his  hat  straight  above  his  head,  and 
replaced  it  a  little  more  obliquely  than  before  over  his 
right  eye. 

"  Delighted,  upon  my  honor ;  faith,  quite  charmed. 
Hope  you  got  something  to  eat ;    there  never  was  such  a 


THE   SHAM   BATTLE.  59 

murthering  hot  day.  Bob  Dwyer,  open  a  bottle  of  port,  — 
the  captain  is  famished." 

"I  say,  Hinton,"  called  out  O'Grady,  "you  forgot  the 
duke,  it  seems.  He  told  me  you  'd  goue  in  search  of  some 
sherry,  or  something  of  the  kind;  but  I  can  readily  con- 
ceive how  easily  a  man  may  forget  himself  in  such  a  posi- 
tion as  yours." 

Here  Mrs.  Paul  dropped  her  head  in  deep  confusion,  Miss 
Bellew  looked  saucy,  and  I,  for  the  first  time  remembering 
what  brought  me  there,  was  perfectly  overwhelmed  with 
shame  at  my  carelessness. 

"Never  mind,  boy,  —  don't  fret  about  it;  his  Grace  is 
the  most  forgiving  man  in  the  world ;  and  when  he  knows 
where  you  were  —  " 

"Ah,  Captain,"  sighed  Mrs.  Rooney. 

"  Master  Phil,  it 's  yourself  can  do  it,"  murmured  Paul, 
who  perfectly  appreciated  O'Grady's  powers  of  blarney, 
when  exercised  on  the  susceptible  temperament  of  his  fair 
spouse. 

"I '11  take  a  sandwich,"  continued  the  captain.  "Do  you 
know,  Mrs.  Rooney,  I  've  been  riding  about  this  half-hour 
to  catch  my  young  friend,  and  introduce  him  to  you ;  and 
hero  1  find  him  comfortably  installed  without  my  aid  or 
assistance.  The  fact  is,  these  English  fellows  have  a  flat- 
tering, insinuating  way  of  their  own  there  's  no  coming  up 
to.     Is  n't  that  so,  Miss  Bellew  ?  " 

"Very  likely,"  said  the  young  lady,  who  now  spoke  for 
the  first  time ;  "  but  it  is  so  very  well  concealed,  that  I  for 
one  could  never  detect  it." 

This  speech,  uttered  with  a  certain  pert  and  saucy  air, 
nettled  me  for  the  moment;  but  as  no  reply  occurred  to 
me,  I  could  only  look  at  the  speaker  a  tacit  acknowledg- 
ment of  her  sarcasm ;  while  I  remembered,  for  the  first 
time,  that,  although  seated  opposite  my  very  attractive 
neighbor,  I  had  hitherto  not  addressed  to  her  a  single 
phrase  of  even  commonplace  attention. 

"  I  suppose  you  put  up  in  the  Castle,  sir  ? "  said  Mr. 
Rooney. 


60  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"Yes;  two  doors  lower  down  than  Mount  O'Grady," 
replied  the  captain  for  me.  "But,  come,  Hinton,  the  car- 
riages are  moving;  we  must  get  back  as  quick  as  we  can. 
Good-by,  Paul.  Adieu,  Mrs.*  Eooney.  Miss  Bellew,  good 
afternoon." 

It  was  just  at  the  moment  when  I  had  summoned  up  my 
courage  to  address  Miss  Bellew  that  O'Grady  called  me 
away ;  there  was  nothing  for  it,  however,  but  to  make  my 
adieus  while  extricating  myself  from  the  debris  of  the  lun- 
cheon. I  once  more  mounted  my  horse,  and  joined  the 
viceregal  party  as  they  drove  from  the  ground. 

"  I  'in  delighted  you  know  the  Kooneys,"  said  O'Grady, 
as  we  drove  along ;  "  they  are  by  far  the  best  fun  going. 
Paul  good,  but  his  wife  superb." 

"  And  the  young  lady  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh,  a  different  kind  of  thing  altogether.  By-the-bye, 
Hinton,  you  took  my  hint,  I  hope,  about  your  English 
manner." 

"  Eh !  why  —  how  —  what  did  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Simply,  my  boy,  that  your  Coppermine  River  kind  of 
courtesy  may  be  a  devilish  fine  thing  in  Hyde  Park  or  St. 
James's,  but  will  never  do  with  us  poor  people  here.  Put 
more  warmth  into  it,  man !  Dash  the  lemonade  with  a 
little  maraschino ;  you  '11  feel  twice  as  comfortable  your- 
self, and  the  girls  will  like  you  all  the  better.  You  take 
the  suggestion  in  good  part,  I  'm  sure." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  I,  somewhat  stung  that  I  should 
get  a  lesson  in  manners,  where  I  had  meant  to  be  a  model 
for  imitation;  "if  they  like  that  kind  of  thing,  I  must  only 
conform." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE    R00NEYS. 


I  cannot  proceed  further  in  this  my  veracious  history 
without  dwelling  a  little  longer  upon  the  characters  of  the 
two  interesting  individuals  I  have  already  presented  to  my 
readers  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rooney. 

Paul  Rooney,  attorney-at-law,  42  Stephen's  Green,  north, 
was  about  as  well  known  in  his  native  city  of  Dublin  as 
Nelson's  Pillar.  His  reputation,  unlimited  by  the  adven- 
titious circumstances  of  class,  spread  over  the  whole  sur- 
face of  society;  and  from  the  chancellor  down  to  the 
carman  his  claims  were  confessed. 

It  is  possible  that  in  many  other  cities  of  the  world  Mr. 
Rooney  might  have  been  regarded  as  a  commonplace,  every- 
day personage,  well-to-do  in  the  world,  and  of  a  fair-and- 
easy  character,  which  if  it  left  little  for  reproach,  left  still 
less  for  remark ;  but  in  Ireland,  whether  it  was  the  climate 
or  the  people,  the  poteen  or  the  potatoes,  I  cannot  say,  but 
certainly  he  came  out,  as  the  painters  call  it,  in  a  breadth 
of  color  quite  surprising.  The  changeful  character  of  the 
skies  has,  they  tell  us,  a  remarkable  influence  in  fashioning 
the  ever-varying  features  of  Irish  temperament ;  and  cer- 
tainly, the  inconstant  climate  of  Dublin  had  much  merit 
if  it  produced  in  Mr.  Rooney  the  versatile  nature  he  re- 
joiced in. 

About  ten  o'clock,  on  every  morning  during  term,  might 
be  seen  a  shrewd,  cunning-looking,  sly  little  fellow,  who, 
with  pursed-up  lips  and  slightly  elevated  nose,  wended  his 
way  towards  the  Four  Courts,  followed  by  a  ragged  urchin 
with  a  well-filled  bag  of  purple  stuff.  His  black  coat,  drab 
shorts,  and  gaiters  had  a  plain  and  business-like  cut ;  and 


62  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUAEDSMAN. 

the  short  square  tie  of  his  white  cravat  had  a  quaint  re- 
semblance to  a  flourish  on  a  deed.  The  self-satisfied  look, 
the  assured  step,  the  easy  roll  of  the  head,  —  all  bespoke 
one  with  whom  the  world  was  thriving ;  and  it  did  not 
need  the  additional  evidence  of  a  certain  habit  he  had  of 
jingling  his  silver  in  his  breeches-pocket  as  he  went,  to 
assure  you  that  Eooney  was  a  warm  fellow,  and  had  no 
want  of  money. 

Were  you  to  trace  his  steps  for  the  three  or  four  hours 
that  ensued,  you  would  see  him  bustling  through  the 
crowded  hall  of  the  Four  Courts, — now  whispering  some 
important  point  to  a  leading  barrister,  while  he  held  an- 
otner  by  the  gown  lest  he  should  escape  him ;  now  he  might 
be  remarked  seated  in  a  niche  between  the  pillars,  ex- 
plaining some  knotty  difficulty  to  a  western  client,  whose 
flushed  cheek  and  flashing  eye  too  plainly  indicated  his 
impatience  of  legal  strategy,  and  how  much  more  pleased 
he  would  feel  to  redress  his  wrongs  in  his  own  fashion ; 
now  brow-beating,  now  cajoling,  now  encouraging,  now 
condoling,  he  edged  his  way  through  the  be-wigged  and 
dusty  throng,  not  stopping  to  reply  to  the  hundred  saluta- 
tions he  met  with  save  by  a  knowing  wink,  which  was  the 
only  civility  he  did  not  put  down  at  three-and-fourpence. 
If  his  knowledge  of  law  was  little,  his  knowledge  of  human 
nature  —  at  least  of  such  of  it  as  Ireland  exhibits  —  was 
great ;  and  no  case  of  any  importance  could  come  before  a 
jury  where  Paul's  advice  and  opinion  were  not  deemed  of 
considerable  importance.  No  man  better  knew  all  the 
wiles  and  twists,  all  the  dark  nooks  and  recesses  of  Irish 
character;  no  man  more  quickly  could  ferret  out  a 
hoarded  secret,  no  one  so  soon  detect  an  attempted  imposi- 
tion. His  was  the  secret  police  of  law:  he  read  a  witness 
as  he  would  a  deed,  and  detected  a  flaw  in  him  to  the  full 
as  easily. 

As  he  sat  near  the  leading  counsel  in  a  cause,  he  seemed 
a  kind  of  middle  term  between  the  lawyer  and  the  jury. 
Marking  by  some  slight  but  significant  gesture  every  point 
of  the  former,  to  the  latter  he  impressed  upon  their  minds 


THE   ROONEYS. 


G3 


every  favorable  feature  of  his  client's  cause ;  and  twelve 
deaf  men  might  have  followed  the  pleadings  in  a  case 
through  thev  agency  of  Paul's  gesticulations.  The  conse- 
quence of  these  varied  gifts  was  that  business  flowed  in 
upon  him  from  every  side,  and  few  members  of  the  bar 
were  in  the  receipt  of  one  half  his  income. 

Scarcely,  however,  did  the  courts  rise,  when  Paul,  shak- 
ing from  his  shoulders  the  learned  dust  of  the  Exchequer, 
would  dive  into  a  small  apartment,  which,  in  an  obscure 
house  in  Mass  Lane,  he  dig- 
nified by  the  name  of  his 
"  study."  Short  and  few  as 
were  his  moments  of  seclu- 
sion, they  sufficed  to  effect 
in  his  entire  man  a  complete 
and  total  change.  The  shrewd 
little  attorney,  that  went  in 
with  a  nisi  prius  grin,  came 
out  a  round  pleasant-looking 
fellow,  with  a  green  coat  of 
jockey  cut,  a  buff  waistcoat, 
white  cords,  and  tops,  his 
hat  set  jauntily  on  one  side, 
his  spotted  neck-cloth  knot- 
ted in  bang-up  mode,  —  in 
fact,  his  figure  the  beau  ideal 
of  a  west-country  squire  tak- 
ing a  canter  among  his  covers  before  the  opening  of  the 
hunting.  His  gray  eyes,  expanded  to  twice  their  former 
size,  looked  the  very  soul  of  merriment;  his  nether  lip, 
slightly  dropped,  quivered  with  the  last  joke  it  uttered. 
Even  his  voice  partook  of  the  change,  and  was  now  a  rich, 
full,  mellow  Clare  accent,  which,  with  the  recitative  of  his 
country,  seemed  to  Italianize  his  English. 

While  such  was  Paul,  his  accessolres  —  as  the  French 
would  call  them  —  were  in  admirable  keeping.  A  dark- 
chestnut  cob,  a  perfect  model  of  strength  and  symmetry, 
would   be   led   up   and   down   by  a   groom,  also  mounted 


64  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

upon  a  strong  hackney,  whose  flat  rib  and  short  pastern 
showed  his  old  Irish  breeding ;  the  well-fitting  saddle, 
the  well-balanced  stirrup,  the  plain  but  powerful  snaffle, 
all  looked  like  the  appendages  of  one  whose  jockey  ism 
was  no  assumed  feature  ;  and,  indeed,  you  had  only  to  see 
Mr.  Eooney  in  his  seat  to  confess  that  he  was  to  the  full 
as  much  at  home  there  as  in  the  court  of  Chancery. 

From  this  to  the  hour  of  a  late  dinner  the  Phoenix  Park 
became  his  resort.  There,  surrounded  by  a  gay  and  laugh- 
ing crowd,  Paul  cantered  along,  amusing  his  hearers  with 
the  last  mot  from  the  King's  Bench,  or  some  stray  bit  of 
humor  or  fun  from  a  case  on  circuit.  His  conversation, 
however,  principally  ran  on  other  topics,  —  the  Curragh 
meeting,  the  Lougrea  steeple-chase,  the  Meath  cup,  or  Lord 
Boyne's  handicap.  With  these  he  was  thoroughly  familiar ; 
he  knew  the  odds  of  every  race,  could  apportion  the  weights, 
describe  the  ground,  and,  better  than  all,  make  rather  a  good 
guess  at  the  winner.  In  addition  to  these  gifts,  he  was  the 
best  judge  of  a  horse  in  Ireland,  —  always  well-mounted,  and 
never  without  at  least  two  hackneys  in  his  stable,  able  to 
trot  their  fifteen  Irish  miles  within  the  hour.  Such  quali- 
ties as  these  might  be  supposed  popular  ones  in  a  country 
proverbially  given  to  sporting ;  but  Mr.  Rooney  had  other 
and  very  superior  powers  of  attraction,  —  he  was  the  Am- 
phitryon of  Dublin.  It  was  no  figurative  expression  to  say 
that  he  kept  open  house.  Dejeuners,  dinners,  routs,  and 
balls  followed  each  other  in  endless  succession.  His  cook 
was  French,  his  claret  was  Sneyd's ;  he  imported  his  own 
sherry  and  madeira,  both  of  which  he  nursed  with  a  care 
and  affection  truly  parental.  His  venison  and  black-cock 
came  from  Scotland  ;  every  Holyhead  packet  had  its  con- 
signment of  Welsh  mutton ;  and,  in  a  word,  whatever  wealth 
could  purchase,  and  a  taste,  nurtured  as  his  had  been  by  the 
counsel  of  many  who  frequented  his  table,  could  procure, 
such  he  possessed  in  abundance,  —  his  greatest  ambition 
being  to  outshine  in  splendor  and  surpass  in  magnificence 
all  the  other  dinner-givers  of  the  day  ;  tilling  his  house  with 
the  great  and  titled  of  the  land,  who  ministered  to  his  vanity 


THE   ROONEYS. 


65 


with  singular  good-nature,  while  they  sipped  his  claret  and 
sat  over  his  burgundy. 

His  was  indeed  a  pleasant  house.  The  bons  vivants  liked 
it  for  its  excellent  cuisine,  the  perfection  of  its  wines,  the 
certainty  of  finding  the  first  rarity  of  the  season  before  its 
existence  was  heard  of  at  other  tables  ;  the  lounger  liked  it 
for  its  ease  and  informality ;  the  humorist,  for  the  amusing 
features  of  its  host  and  hostess ;  and  not  a  few  were  at- 
tracted by  the  gracefulness  and  surpassing  loveliness  of  one 
who,  by  some  strange  fatality  of  fortune,  seemed  to  have 
been  dropped  down  into  the  midst  of  this  singular  menage. 

Of  Mr.  Rooney  I  have  only  further  to  say,  that,  hospita- 
ble as  a  prince,  he  was  never  so  happy  as  at  the  head  of  his 
table  ;    for  although  his  natural  sharpness  could  not  but 
convince  him  of  the  foot- 
ing   which     he    occupied 
among   his  high   and  dis- 
tinguished guests,  yet   he 
knew  well   there   are  few 
such   levellers  of  rank  as 
riches,  and  he  had  read  in 
his    youth   that   even  the 
lofty  Jove  himself  was  ac- 
cessible by  the  odor  of  a 
hecatomb. 

Mrs.  Rooney  —  or,  as 
she  wrote  herself  upon  her 
card,  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney 
(there  seemed  something 
distinctive  in  the  prenom.) 
—  was  a  being  of  a  very 
different  order.  Perfectly 
unconscious  of  the  ridicule 
that    attaches    to    vulgar 

profusion,  she  believed  herself  the  great  source  of  attrac- 
tion of  her  crowded  staircase  and  besieged  drawing-room. 
True  it  was,  she  was  a  large  and  very  handsome  woman ; 
her  deep,  dark,  brown  eyes  and  brilliant  complexion  would 

VOL.  I.  — 5 


66  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

have  been  beautiful,  had  not  her  mouth  somewhat  marred 
their  effect  by  that  coarse  expression  which  high  living  and 
a  voluptuous  life  is  sure  to  impress  upon  those  not  born  to  be 
great.  There  is  no  doubt  of  it,  the  mouth  is  your  thorough- 
bred feature.  You  will  meet  eyes  as  softly  beaming,  as 
brightly  speaking,  among  the  lofty  cliffs  of  the  wild  Tyrol, 
or  in  the  deep  valleys  of  the  far  west.  I  have  seen, 
too,  a  brow  as  fairly  pencilled,  a  nose  no  Grecian  statue 
could  surpass,  a  skin  whose  tint  was  fair  and  transparent 
as  the  downy  rose-leaf,  amid  the  humble  peasants  of  a  poor 
and  barren  land ;  but  never  have  I  seen  the  mouth,  whose 
clean-cut  lip  and  chiselled  arch  betokened  birth.  No  ;  that 
feature  would  seem  the  prerogative  of  the  highly  born. 
Fashioned  to  the  expression  of  high  and  holy  thoughts, 
moulded  to  the  utterance  of  ennobling  sentiment  or  proud 
1  desire,  —  its  every  lineament  tells  of  birth  and  blood. 

Now,  Mrs.  Rooney's  mouth  was  a  large  and  handsome 
one,  her  teeth  white  and  regular  withal,  aud  when  at  rest 
there  was  nothing  to  find  fault  with;  but  let  .her  speak  — 
was  it  her  accent;  was  it  the  awful  provincialism  of  her 
native  city;  was  it  that  strange  habit  of  contortion  any 
patois  is  sure  to  impress  upon  the  speaker  ?  I  cannot  tell ; 
but  certainly  it  lent  to  features  of  very  considerable  at- 
traction a  vulgarizing  character  of  expression. 

It  was  truly  provoking  to  see  so  handsome  a  person  mar 
every  effect  of  her  beauty  by  some  extravagant  display. 
Dramatizing  every  trivial  incident  in  life,  she  rolled  her 
eyes,  looked  horror-struck  or  happy,  sweet  or  sarcastic, 
lofty  or  languishing,  all  in  one  minute.  There  was  an 
eternal  play  of  feature  of  one  kind  or  other ;  there  was  no 
rest,  no  repose.  Her  arms,  and  they  were  round  and  fair 
and  well-fashioned,  were  also  enlisted  in  the  service;  and 
to  a  distant  observer  Mrs.  Rooney's  animated  conversation 
appeared  like  a  priest  performing  Mass. 

And  that  beautiful  head,  whose  fair  and  classic  propor- 
tions were  balanced  so  equally  upon  her  white  and  swelling 
throat,  how  tantalizing  to  know  it  full  of  low  and  petty 
ambitions,  of   vulgar  tastes,  of   contemptible    rivalries,  of 


THE  ROONEYS.  G7 

insignificant  triumphs.  To  see  her,  amid  the  voluptuous 
splendor  and  profusion  of  her  gorgeous  house,  resplendent 
with  jewelry,  glistening  in  all  the  blaze  of  emeralds  and 
rubies ;  to  watch  how  the  poisonous  venom  of  innate  vul- 
garity had  so  tainted  that  fair  and  beautiful  form,  ren- 
dering her  an  object  of  ridicule  who  should  have  been  a 
thing  to  worship,  —  it  was  too  bad ;  and  as  she  sat  at  din- 
ner, her  plump  but  taper  fingers  grasping  a  champagne 
glass,  she  seemed  like  a  Madonna  enacting  the  part  of  Moll 
Flagon. 

Now,  Mrs.  Paul's  manner  had  as  many  discrepancies  as 
her  features.  She  was  by  nature  a  good,  kind,  merry, 
coarse  personage,  who  loved  a  joke  not  the  less  if  it  were 
broad  as  well  as  long.  Wealth,  however,  and  its  attendant 
evils  suggested  the  propriety  of  a  very  different  line ;  and 
catching  up,  as  she  did  at  every  opportunity  that  presented 
itself,  such  of  the  airs  and  graces  as  she  believed  to  be  the 
distinctive  traits  of  high  life,  she  figured  about  in  these 
cast-off  attractions,  like  a  waiting-maid  in  the  abandoned 
finery  of  her  mistress.  As  she  progressed  in  fortune,  she 
'•tried  back"  for  a  family,  and  discovered  that  she  was  an 
O'Toole  by  birth,  and  consequently  of  Irish  blood-royal,  — 
a  certain  O'Toole  being  king  of  a  nameless  tract,  in  an  un- 
known year,  somewhere  about  the  time  of  Cromwell,  who, 
Mrs.  Rooney  had  heard,  came  over  with  the  Romans. 

"Ah,  yes,  my  dear,"  as  she  would  say,  when,  softened  by 
sherry  and  sorrow,  she  would  lay  her  hand  upon  your  arm, 
—  "  ah,  yes,  if  every  one  had  their  own,  it  is  n't  married  to 
an  attorney  I  'd  be,  but  living  in  regal  splendor  in  the  halls 
of  my  ancestors.     Well,  well !  " 

Here  she  would  throw  up  her  eyes  with  a  mixed  expres- 
sion of  grief  and  of  confidence  in  Heaven,  that,  if  she 
had  n't  got  her  own  in  this  world,  Oliver  Cromwell,  at 
least,  was  paying  off  in  the  other  his  foul  wrongs  to  the 
royal  house  of  O'Toole. 

I  have  only  one  person  more  to  speak  of,  ere  I  conclude 
my  rather  prolix  account  of  the  family.  Miss  Louisa 
Bellew  was  the   daughter  of  Sir  Simon   Bellew,  an  Irish 


68  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

baronet,  who  put  the  key-stone  upon  his  ruin  by  his  honest 
opposition  to  the  passing  of  the  Union.  His  large  estates, 
loaded  with  debt  and  encumbered  by  mortgage,  had  been 
for  half  a  century  a  kind  of  battle-field  for  legal  warfare  at 
every  assizes.  Through  the  medium  of  his  difficulties  he 
became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Kooney,  whose  craft  and 
subtlety  had  rescued  him  from  more  than  one  difficulty, 
and  whose  good-natured  assistance  had  done  still  more 
important  service  by  loans  upon  his  property. 

At  Mr.  Eooney's  suggestion,  Miss  Belle  w  was  invited  to 
pass  her  winter  with  them  in  Dublin.  This  proposition, 
which  in  the  palmier  days  of  the  baronet's  fortune  would  in 
all  probability  never  have  been  made,  and  would  certainly 
never  have  been  accepted,  was  now  entertained  with  some 
consideration,  and  finally  acceded  to,  on  prudential  motives. 
Rooney  had  lent  Sir  Simon  large  sums ;  he  had  never  been 
a  pressing,  on  the  contrary  he  was  a  lenient,  creditor;  pos- 
sessing great  power  over  the  property,  he  had  used  it  spar- 
ingly, even  delicately,  and  showed  himself  upon  more  than 
one  occasion  not  only  a  shrewd  adviser,  but  a  warm  friend. 
"  'T  is  true,"  thought  Sir  Simon,  "  they  are  vulgar  people, 
of  coarse  tastes  and  low  habits,  and  those  with  whom  they 
associate  laugh  at,  though  they  live  upon,  them ;  yet,  after 
all,  to  refuse  this  invitation  may  be  taken  in  ill  part.  A 
few  months  will  do  the  whole  thing.  Louisa,  although 
young,  has  tact  and  cleverness  enough  to  see  the  difficulties 
of  her  position ;  besides,  poor  child,  the  gayety  and  life  of 
a  city  will  be  a  relief  to  her,  after  the  dreary  and  monoto- 
nous existence  she  has  passed  with  me."  This  latter 
reason  he  plausibly  represented  to  himself  as  a  strong  one 
for  complying  with  what  his  altered  fortunes  and  ruined 
prospects  seemed  to  render  no  longer  a  matter  of  choice. 

To  the  Rooneys,  indeed,  Miss  Bellew's  visit  was  a  matter 
of  some  consequence :  it  was  like  the  recognition  of  some 
petty  State  by  one  of  the  great  Powers  of  Europe.  It  was 
an  acknowledgment  of  a  social  existence,  an  evidence  to  the 
world  not  only  that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  the  kingdom 
of  Rooney,  but  also  that  it  was  worth  while  to  enter  into 


THE  ROONEYS.  69 

negotiation  with  it,  and  even  accredit  an  ambassador  to  its 
court. 

Little  did  that  fair  and  lovely  girl  think,  as  with  tearful 
eyes  she  turned  again  and  again  to  embrace  her  father,  as 
the  hour  arrived  when  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was 
to  leave  her  home,  —  little  did  she  dream  of  the  circum- 
stances under  which  her  visit  was  to  be  paid.  Less  a  guest 
than  a  hostage,  she  was  about  to  quit  the  home  of  her  in- 
fancy, where,  notwithstanding  the  inroads  of  poverty,  a 
certain  air  of  its  once  greatness  still  lingered;  the  broad 
and  swelling  lands,  that  stretched  away  with  wood  and 
coppice  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach ;  the  woodland  walks ; 
the  ancient  house  itself,  with  its  discordant  pile,  accumu- 
lated at  different  times  by  different  masters,  —  all  told  of 
power  and  supremacy  in  the  land  of  her  fathers.  The 
lonely  solitude  of  those  walls,  peopled  alone  by  the  grini- 
visaged  portraits  of  long-buried  ancestors,  were  now  to  be 
exchanged  for  the  noise  and  bustle,  the  glitter  and  the 
glare  of  second-rate  city  life,  —  profusion  and  extravagance, 
where  she  had  seen  but  thrift  and  forbearance.  The  gos- 
sip, the  scandal,  the  tittle-tattle  of  society,  with  its  envies, 
its  jealousies,  its  petty  rivalries,  and  its  rancors,  were  to 
supply  those  quiet  evenings  beside  the  winter  hearth,  when 
reading  aloud  some  old  and  valued  volume  she  learned  to 
prize  the  treasures  of  our  earlier  writers,  under  the  guiding 
taste  of  one  whose  scholarship  was  of  no  mean  order,  and 
whose  cultivated  mind  was  imbued  with  all  the  tenderness 
and  simplicity  of  a  refined  and  gentle  nature. 

When  fortune  smiled,  when  youth  and  wealth,  an  ancient 
name  and  a  high  position,  all  concurred  to  elevate  him,  Sir 
Simon  Bellew  was  courteous  almost  to  humility ;  but  when 
the  cloud  of  misfortune  lowered  over  his  house,  when  diffi- 
culties thickened  around  him,  and  every  effort  to  rescue 
seemed  only  to  plunge  him  deeper,  then  the  deep-rooted 
pride  of  the  man  shone  forth ;  and  he,  who  in  happier  days 
was  forgiving  even  to  a  fault,  became  now  scrupulous  about 
every  petty  observance,  exacting  testimonies  of  respect  from 
all  around  him,  and  assuming  an  almost  tyranny  of  manner 


70  JACK   HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

totally  foreign  to  his  tastes,  his  feelings,  and  his  nature. 
Like  some  mighty  oak  of  the  forest,  riven  and  scathed  by 
lightning,  its  branches  leafless  and  its  roots  laid  bare,  still 
standing  erect,  it  stretches  its  sapless  limbs  proudly  towards 
heaven,  —  so  stood  he,  reft  of  nearly  all,  yet  still  present- 
ing to  the  adverse  wind  of  fortune  his  bold,  unshaken 
front. 

Alas  and  alas !  poverty  has  no  heavier  evil  in  its  train 
than  its  power  of  perverting  the  fairest  gifts  of  our  nature 
from  their  true  channel,  making  the  bright  sides  of  our 
character  dark,  gloomy,  and  repulsive.  Thus  the  high- 
souled  pride  that  in  our  better  days  sustains  and  keeps  us 
far  above  the  reach  of  sordid  thoughts  and  unworthy  ac- 
tions, becomes  in  the  darker  hour  of  our  destiny  a  misan- 
thropic selfishness  in  which  we  wrap  ourselves  as  in  a  man- 
tle. The  caresses  of  friendship,  the  warm  affections  of 
domestic  love,  cannot  penetrate  through  this,  —  even  sym- 
pathy becomes  suspect;  and  then  commences  that  terri- 
ble struggle  against  the  world  whose  only  termination  is 
a  broken  heart. 

Notwithstanding,  then,  all  Mr.  Kooney's  address  in  con- 
veying the  invitation  m  question,  it  was  not  without  a 
severe  struggle  that  Sir  Simon  resolved  on  its  acceptance ; 
and  when  at  last  he  did  accede,  it  was  with  so  many  stipula- 
tions, so  many  express  conditions,  that,  had  they  been  com- 
plied with  de  facto,  as  they  were  acknowledged  by  promise, 
Miss  Bellew  would  in  all  probability  have  spent  her  winter 
in  the  retirement  of  her  own  chamber  in  Stephen's  Green, 
without  seeing  more  of  the  capital  and  its  inhabitants  than 
a  view  from  her  window  presented.  Paul,  it  is  true,  agreed 
to  everything ;  for  although,  to  use  his  own  language,  the 
codicil  revoked  the  entire  body  of  the  testament,  he  de- 
termined in  his  own  mind  to  break  the  will.  "Once  in 
Dublin,"  thought  he,  "the  fascinations  of  society,  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  world,  with  such  a  guide  as  Mrs.  Rooney  [and 
here  let  me  mention,  that  for  his  wife's  tact  and  savoirfaire 
Paul  had  the  most  heartfelt  admiration], —  with  advantages 
like  these,  she  will  soon  forget  the  hum-drum  life  of  Kil- 


THE  ROONEYS.  71 

morran  Castle,   and  become  reconciled  to  a  splendor  and 
magnificence  unsurpassed  by  even  the  viceregal  court." 

Here,  then,  let  me  conclude  this  account  of  the  Rooneys, 
while  I  resume  the  thread  of  my  own  narrative.  Although 
I  am  ashamed  of  the  prolixity  in  which  I  have  indulged,  yet, 
as  I  speak  of  real  people,  well  known  at  the  period  of  which 
I  write,  and  as  they  may  to  a  certain  extent  convey  an  im- 
pression of  the  tone  of  one  class  in  the  society  of  that  day, 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  omit  their  mention,  nor  even 
dismiss  them  more  briefly. 


CHAPTEE   VIII. 

THE   VISIT. 

I  have  already  recorded  the  first  twenty-four  hours  of 
my  life  in  Ireland ;  and  if  there  was  enough  in  them  to 
satisfy  me  that  the  country  was  unlike  in  many  respects 
that  which  I  had  left,  there  was  also  some  show  of  reason 
to  convince  me  that  if  I  did  not  conform  to  the  habits  and 
tastes  of  those  around  me  I  should  incur  a  far  greater 
chance  of  being  laughed  at  by  them  than  be  myself  amused 
by  their  eccentricities.  The  most  remarkable  feature  that 
struck  me  was  the  easy,  even  cordial,  manner  with  which 
acquaintance  was  made.  Every  one  met  you  as  if  he  had 
in  some  measure  been  prepared  for  the  introduction ;  a  tone 
of  intimacy  sprang  up  at  once ;  your  tastes  were  hinted, 
your  wishes  guessed  at,  with  an  unaffected  kindness  that 
made  you  forget  the  suddenness  of  the  intimacy,  —  so  that, 
when  at  last  you  parted  with  your  dear  friend  of  some  half- 
an-hour's  acquaintance,  you  could  not  help  wondering  at 
the  confidences  you  had  made,  the  avowals  you  had  spoken, 
and  the  lengths  to  which  you  had  gone  in  close  alliance 
with  one  you  had  never  seen  before,  and  might  possibly 
never  meet  again.  Strange  enough  as  this  was  with  men, 
it  was  still  more  singular  when  it  extended  to  the  gentler 
sex.  Accustomed  as  I  had  been  all  my  life  to  the  rigid 
observances  of  etiquette  in  female  society,  nothing  sur- 
prised me  so  much  as  the  rapid  steps  by  which  Irish  ladies 
passed  from  acquaintance  to  intimacy,  from  intimacy  to 
friendship.  The  unsuspecting  kindliness  of  woman's  nature 
has  certainly  no  more  genial  soil  than  in  the  heart  of  Erin's 
daughters.  There  is  besides,  too,  a  winning  softness  in 
their   manner  towards  the  stranger  of  another  land  that 


THE   VISIT.  73 

imparts  to  their  hospitable  reception  a  tone  of  courteous 
warmth  I  have  never  seen  in  any  other  country. 

The  freedom  of  manner  I  have  here  alluded  to,  however 
delightful  it  may  render  the  hours  of  one  separated  from 
home,  family,  and  friends,  is  yet  not  devoid  of  its  incon- 
veniences. How  many  an  undisciplined  and  uninformed 
youth  has  misconstrued  its  meaning  and  mistaken  its  im- 
port !  How  often  have  I  seen  the  raw  subaltern  elated 
with  imaginary  success,  flushed  with  a  fancied  victory, 
where  in  reality  he  had  met  with  nothing  save  the  kind 
looks  and  the  kind  words  in  which  the  every-day  courtesies 
of  life  are  couched,  and  by  which  what  in  less  favored 
lands  are  the  cold  and  chilling  observances  of  ceremony,  are 
here  the  easy  and  familiar  intercourse  of  those  who  wish 
to  know  each  other. 

The  coxcomb  who  fancies  that  he  can  number  as  many 
triumphs  as  he  has  passed  hours  in  Dublin  is  like  one  who, 
estimating  the  rich  productions  of  a  southern  clime  by  their 
exotic  value  in  his  own  colder  regions,  dignifies  by  the 
name  of  luxury  what  are  in  reality  but  the  every-day  pro- 
ductions of  the  soil :  so  he  believes  peculiarly  addressed  to 
himself  the  cordial  warmth  and  friendly  greeting  which 
make  the  social  atmosphere  around  him. 

If  I  myself  fell  deeply  into  this  error,  and  if  my  punish- 
ment was  a  heavy  one,  let  my  history  prove  a  beacon  to  all 
who  follow  in  my  steps  ;  for  Dublin  is  still  a  garrison  city, 
and  I  have  been  told  that  lips  as  tempting  and  eyes  as 
bright  are  to  be  met  there  as  heretofore.  Now  to  my 
story. 

Life  in  Dublin,  at  the  time  I  write  of,  was  about  as  gay 
a  thing  as  a  man  can  well  fancy.  Less  debarred  than  in 
other  countries  from  partaking  of  the  lighter  enjoyments  of 
life,  the  members  of  the  learned  professions  mixed  much 
in  society ;  bringing  with  them  stores  of  anecdote  and  in- 
formation unattainable  from  other  sources,  they  made  what 
elsewhere  would  have  proved  the  routine  of  intercourse  a 
season  of  intellectual  enjoyment.     Thus,  the  politician,  the 


74  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

churchman,  the  barrister,  and  the  military  man,  shaken  as 
they  were  together  in  close  intimacy,  lost  individually 
many  of  the  prejudices  of  their  caste,  and  learned  to  con- 
verse with  a  wider  and  more  extended  knowledge  of  the 
world.  While  this  was  so,  another  element,  peculiarly 
characteristic  of  the  country,  had  its  share  in  modelling 
social  life  :  that  innate  tendency  to  drollery,  that  bent  to 
laugh  with  every  one  and  at  every  thing,  so  eminently  Irish, 
was  now  in  the  ascendant.  From  the  viceroy  downwards, 
the  island  was  on  the  broad  grin.  Every  day  furnished  its 
share,  its  quota  of  merriment.  Epigrams,  good  stories, 
repartees,  and  practical  jokes  rained  in  showers  over  the 
land.  A  privy  council  was  a  conversazione  of  laughing 
bishops  and  droll  chief-justices.  Every  trial  at  the  bar, 
every  dinner  at  the  court,  every  drawing-room,  afforded  a 
theme  for  some  ready-witted  absurdity  ;  and  all  the  graver 
business  of  life  was  carried  on  amid  this  current  of  unceas- 
ing fun  and  untiring  laughter,  just  as  we  see  the  serious 
catastrophe  of  a  modern  opera  assisted  by  the  crash  of  an 
orchestral  accompaniment. 

With  materials  like  these  society  was  made  up  ;  and  into 
this  I  plunged  with  all  the  pleasurable  delight  of  one,  who, 
if  he  could  not  appreciate  the  sharpness,  was  at  least  daz- 
zled by  the  brilliancy  of  the  wit  that  flashed  around  him. 
My  duties  as  aide-de-camp  were  few,  and  never  interfered 
with  my  liberty ;  while  in  my  double  capacity  of  military 
man  and  attache  to  the  court  I  was  invited  everywhere,  and 
treated  with  marked  courtesy  and  kindness. 

Thus  passed  my  life  pleasantly  along,  when  a  few  morn- 
ings after  the  events  I  have  mentioned,  I  was  sitting  at  my 
breakfast,  conning  over  my  invitations  for  the  week,  and 
meditating  a  letter  home,  in  which  I  should  describe  my 
mode  of  life  with  as  much  reserve  as  might  render  the 
record  of  my  doings  a  safe  disclosure  for  the  delicate 
nerves  of  my  lady-mother.  In  order  to  accomplish  this 
latter  task  with  success,  I  scribbled  with  some  notes  a  sheet 
of  paper  that  lay  before  me.  "  Among  other  particularly 
nice   people,  my  dear   mother,"  wrote   I,  "there   are   the 


THE    VISIT.  75 

Rooneys.  Mr.  Rooney —  a  member  of  the  Irish  bar,  of 
high  standing  and  great  reputation  —  is  a  most  agreeable 
and  accomplished  person.  How  much  I  should  like  to  pre- 
sent him  to  you ! "  I  had  got  thus  far  when  a  husky, 
asthmatic  cough,  and  a  muttered  curse  on  the  height  of  my 
domicile,  apprised  me  that  some  one  was  at  my  door.  At 
the  same  moment  a  heavy  single  knock,  that  nearly  stove  in 
the  panel,  left  no  doubt  upon  my  mind. 

"  Are  ye  at  home,  or  is  it  sleeping  ye  are  ?  May  I 
never,  if  it 's  much  else  the  half  of  ye 's  fit  for.  Ugh, 
blessed  hour !  three  flights  of  stairs  with  a  twist  an  them 
instead  of  a  landing.  Ye  see  he's  not  in  the  place.  I 
tould  you  that  before  I  came  up ;  but  it 's  always  the  same 
thing.  '  Corny,  run  here ;  Corny,  fly  there ;  get  me  this, 
take  that.'  Bad  luck  to  them  !  One  would  think  they 
badgered  me  for  bare  divarsion,  the  Haythens,  the  Turks  !  " 

A  fit  of  coughing,  that  almost  convinced  me  Corny  had 
given  his  last  curse,  followed  this  burst  of  eloquence  just 
as  I  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Corny  ?  " 

"The  matter  ?  Ugh,  ain't  I  coughing  my  soul  out  with  a 
wheezing  and  whistling  in  my  chest  like  a  creel  of  chickens? 
Here  's  Mr.  Rooney  wanting  to  see  ye ;  and  faith,"  as  he 
added  in  an  undertone,  "  it 's  not  long  you  wor  in  making 
his  acquaintance.  That 's  his  room,"  added  he  with  a  jerk 
of  his  thumb.  "Now  lave  the  way,  if  you  plaze,  and  let 
me  get  a  howld  of  the  banisters." ' 

With  these  words  Corny  began  his  descent;  while  I, 
apologizing  to  Mr.  Rooney  for  not  having  sooner  perceived 
him,  bowed  him  into  the  room  with  all  proper  ceremony. 

"A  thousand  apologies,  Mr.  Hinton,  for  the  unseasonable 
hour  of  my  visit ;  but  business  —  " 

"  Pray,  not  a  word,"  said  I ;  "  always  delighted  to  see 
you.     Mrs.  Rooney  is  well,  I  hope  ?  " 

"Charming,  upon  my  honor.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  I 
could  not  well  come  later;  there  is  a  case  in  the  King's 
Bench,  —  Rex  versus  Ryves,  —  a  heavy  record,  and  I  want 
to  catch  the  counsel  to  assure  him  that  all 's  safe.     God 


76  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

knows  it  has  cost  me  an  anxious  night.  Everything  de- 
pended on  one  witness,  —  an  obstinate  beast,  that  would  n't 
listen  to  reason.  We  got  hold  of  him  last  night ;  got  three 
doctors  to  certify  he  was  out  of  his  mind ;  and  at  this  mo- 
ment, with  his  head  shaved  and  a  gray  suit  on  him,  he  is 
the  noisiest  inmate  in  Glassnevin  madhouse."' 

"Was  not  this  a  very  bold,  a  very  dangerous  expedient  ?  " 

"  So  it  was.  He  fought  like  the  devil ;  and  his  outrage- 
ous conduct  has  its  reward,  for  they  put  him  on  low  diet 
and  handcuffs  the  moment  he  went  in.  But  excuse  me  if  I 
make  a  hurried  visit.  Mrs.  Kooney  requests  that  —  that  — 
but  where  the  devil  did  I  put  it  ?  " 

Here  Mr.  Eooney  felt  his  coat-pockets,  dived  into  those 
of  his  waistcoat,  patted  himself  all  over,  then  looked  into 
his  hat,  then  round  the  room,  on  the  floor,  and  even  outside 
the  door  upon  the  lobby. 

"  Surely  it  is  not  possible  I  've  lost  it ! " 

"  Nothing  of  consequence,  I  hope  ?  "  said  I. 

"  What  a  head  I  have ! "  replied  he,  with  a  knowing  grin, 
while  at  the  same  moment,  throwing  up  the  sash  of  my 
window,  he  thrust  out  the  head  in  question,  and  gave  a 
loud,  shrill  whistle. 

Scarcely  was  the  casement  closed  when  a  ragged  urchin 
appeared  at  the  door,  carrying  on  his  back  the  ominous 
stuff-bag  containing  the  record  of  Mr.  Rooney's  rogueries. 

"  Give  me  the  bag,  Tim,"  quoth  he ;  at  the  same  moment 
he  plunged  his  hand  deep  among  the  tape-tied  parcels,  and 
extricated  a  piece  of  square  pasteboard,  which,  having 
straightened  and  flattened  upon  his  knee,  he  presented  to 
me  with  a  graceful  bow,  adding  jocosely,  "  An  ambassador 
without  his  credentials  would  never  do." 

It  was  an  invitation  to  dinner  at  Mr.  Eooney 's  for  the 
memorable  Friday  for  which  my  friend  O'Grady  had  already 
received  his  card. 

"  Nothing  will  give  me  more  pleasure  —  " 

"  No,  will  it  though  ?  How  very  good  of  you  !  A  small 
cosey  party,  —  Harry  Burgh,  Bowes  Daley,  Barrington,  the 
judges,  and  a  few  more.     There  now,  no  ceremony,  I  beg  of 


THE  VISIT.  77 

you.     Come  along,  Tim.     Good-morning,  Mr.  Hinton :  not  a 
step  farther." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Eooney  backed  and  shuffled  himself  out 
of  my  room,  and,  followed  by  his  faithful  attendant,  hur- 
ried downstairs,  muttering  a  series  of  self-gratulations  as  he 
went,  on  the  successful  result  of  his  mission.  Scarcely  had 
he  gone  when  I  heard  the  rapid  stride  of  another  visitor, 
who,  mounting  four  steps  at  a  time,  came  along  chanting 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  — 

"  My  two  back  teeth  I  will  bequeath 
To  the  Reverend  Michael  Palmer. 
His  wife  has  a  tongue  that  '11  match  them  well; 
She's  a  devil  of  a  scold,  G — d  d — n  her !  " 

"  How  goes  it,  Jack,  my  hearty  ?  "  cried  he,  as  he  sprang 
into  the  room,  flinging  his  sabre  into  the  corner,  and  hurling 
his  foraging  cap  upon  the  sofa. 

"  You  have  been  away,  O'Grady  ?  What  became  of  you 
for  the  last  two  days  ?  " 

"Down  at  the  Curragh,  taking  a  look  at  the  nags  for  the 
spring  meeting.  Dined  with  the  bar  at  Naas ;  had  a  great 
night  with  them ;  made  old  Moore  gloriously  tipsy,  and 
sent  him  into  court  the  next  morning  with  the  overture  to 
Mother  Goose  in  his  bag  instead  of  his  brief.  Since  day- 
break I  've  been  trying  a  new  horse  in  the  park,  screwing 
him  over  all  the  fences,  and  rushing  him  at  the  double  rails 
in  the  pathway,  to  see  if  he  can't  cross  the  country." 

"  Why,  the  hunting  season  is  nearly  over." 

"  Quite  true ;  but  it  is  the  Loughrea  steeple-chase  I  am 
thinking  of.  I  have  promised  to  name  a  horse,  and  I  only 
remembered  last  night  that  I  had  but  twenty-four  hours  to 
do  it.  The  time  was  short,  but  by  good  fortune  I  heard  of 
this  gray  on  my  way  up  to  town." 

"  And  you  think  he  '11  do  ?  " 

"He  has  a  good  chance,  if  one  can  only  keep  on  his 
back ;  but  what  between  bolting,  plunging,  and  rushing 
through  his  fences,  he  is  not  a  beast  for  a  timid  elderly 
gentleman.  After  all,  one  must  have  something :  the 
whole   world  will  be  there ;   the  Eooneys  are    going,  and 


78  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUAKDSMAN. 

that  pretty  little  girl  with  them.     By-the-bye,  Jack,  what 
do  you  think  of  Miss  Belle w  ?  " 

"  I  can  scarcely  tell  you ;  I  only  saw  her  for  a  moment, 
and  then  that  Hibernian  hippopotamus,  Mrs.  Paul,  so 
completely  overshadowed  her  there  was  no  getting  a  look 
at  her." 

"  Devilish  pretty  girl,  that  she  is  ;  and  one  day  or  other, 
they  say,  will  have  an  immense  fortune.  Old  Booney  al- 
ways shakes  his  head  when  the  idea  is  thrown  out,  which 
only  convinces  me  the  more  of  her  chance." 

"  Well,  then,  Master  Phil,  why  don't  you  do  something 
in  that  quarter  ?  " 

"Well,  so  I  should;  but  somehow,  most  unaccountably 
you  '11  say,  I  don't  think  I  made  my  impression.  To  be 
sure,  I  never  went  vigorously  to  work.  I  could  n't  get  over 
my  scruples  of  making  up  to  a  girl  who  may  have  a  large 
fortune,  while  I  myself  am  so  confoundedly  out  at  the 
elbows :  the  thing  would  look  badly,  to  say  the  least  of  it ; 
and  so,  when  I  did  think  I  was  making  a  little  running,  I 
only  held  the  faster,  and  at  length  gave  up  the  race.  You 
are  the  man,  Hinton.      Your  chances,  I  should  say  —  " 

"  Ah,  I  don't  know." 

Just  at  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Lord  Dudley 
de  Vere  entered,  dressed  in  colored  clothes  cut  in  the  most 
foppish  style  of  the  day,  and  with  his  hands  stuck  negli- 
gently behind  in  his  coat-pockets.  He  threw  himself 
affectedly  into  a  chair,  and  eyed  us  both  without  speaking. 

"  I  say,  Messieurs,  Booney  or  not  Booney,  that's  the 
question.     Do  we  accept  this  invitation  for  Friday  ?  " 

"  I  do  for  one,"  said  I,  somewhat  haughtily. 

"  Can't  be,  my  boy,"  said  O'Grady ;  "  the  thing  is  most 
unlucky.  They  have  a  dinner  at  court  that  same  day ;  our 
names  are  all  on  the  list ;  and  thus  we  lose  the  Boonevs, 
which,  from  all  I  hear,  is  a  very  serious  loss  indeed.  Cur- 
ran,  Barrington,  Harry  Martin,  and  half-a-dozen  others,  the 
first  fellows  of  the  day,  are  all  to  be  there." 

"  What  a  deal  they  will  talk  !  "  yawned  out  Lord  Dudley. 
"  I  feel  rather  happy  to  have  escaped  it.     There  's  no  say- 


THE   VISIT.  79 

ing  a  word  to  the  woman  beside  you,  as  long  as  those  con- 
founded fellows  keep  up  a  roaring  fire  of  what  they  think 
wit.  What"  an  idea  !  To  be  sure,  there  is  not  a  man  among 
them  that  can  tell  you  the  odds  upon  the  Derby,  nor  what 
year  there  was  a  dead  heat  for  the  St.  Leger.  That  little 
girl  the  Rooneys  have  got  is  very  pretty,  I  must  confess ; 
but  I  see  what  they  are  at,  —  won't  do,  though.  Ha ! 
O'Grady,  you  know  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Faith,  I  am  very  stupid  this  morning  ;  can't  say  that 
I  do." 

"  Not  see  it !  It  is  a  hollow  thing ;  but  perhaps  you  are 
in  the  scheme  too.  There,  you  need  n't  look  angry  ;  I  only 
meant  it  in  joke,  —  ha !  ha  !  ha !  I  say,  Hinton,  do  you 
take  care  of  yourself !  Englishers  have  no  chance  here  ; 
and  when  they  find  it  won't  do  with  me,  they  '11  take  you  in 
training." 

"  Anything  for  a  pis-aller,"  said  O'Grady,  sarcastically ; 
"  but  let  us  not  forget  there  is  a  levee  to-day,  and  it  is  al- 
ready past  twelve  o'clock." 

"  Ha  !  to  be  sure ;  a  horrid  bore  ! " 

So  saying,  Lord  Dudley  lounged  once  more  round  the 
room,  looked  at  himself  in  the  glass,  nodded  familiarly  to 
his  own  image,  and  took  his  leave.  O'Grady  soon  followed ; 
while  I  set  about  my  change  of  dress  with  all  the  speed  the 
time  required. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE    BALL. 


As  the  day  of  Mr.  RooDey's  grand  entertainment  drew 
near,  our  disappointment  increased  tenfold  at  our  inability 
to  be  present.  The  only  topic  discussed  in  Dublin  was  the 
number  of  the  guests,  the  splendor  and  magnificence  of  the 
dinner,  which  was  to  be  followed  by  a  ball,  at  which  above 
eight  hundred  guests  were  expected.  The  band  of  the 
Fermanagh  militia,  at  that  time  the  most  celebrated  in 
Ireland,  was  brought  up  expressly  for  the  occasion.  All 
that  the  city  could  number  of  rank,  wealth,  and  beauty  had 
received  invitations,  and  scarcely  a  single  apology  had 
been  returned. 

"Is  there  no  possible  way,"  said  I,  as  I  chatted  with 
O'Grady  on  the  morning  of  the  event,  — "  is  there  no 
chance  of  our  getting  away  in  time  to  see  something  of  the 
ball  at  least  ?  " 

"  None  whatever,"  replied  he,  despondingly  ;  "  as  ill 
luck  would  have  it,  it's  a  command-night  at  the  theatre. 
The  duke  has  disappointed  so  often  that  he  is  sure  to  go 
now,  and  for  the  same  reason  he  '11  sit  the  whole  thing  out. 
By  that  time  it  will  be  half-past  twelve ;  we  sha'n't  get 

back  here  before  one  ;  then  comes  supper ;  and in 

fact,  you  know  enough  of  the  habits  of  this  place  now  to 
guess  that  after  that  there  is  very  little  use  of  thinking  of 
going  anywhere." 

"  It  is  devilish  provoking,"  said  I. 

"  That  it  is  ;  and  you  don't  know  the  worst  of  it.  I  've 
got  rather  a  heavy  book  on  the  Loughrea  race,  and  shall 
want  a  few  hundreds  in  a  week  or  so  ;  and  as  nothing  ren- 
ders my  friend  Paul  so  sulky  as  not  eating  his  dinners,  it  is 


THE   BALL.  81 

five-and-twenty  per  cent  at  least  out  of  my  pocket  from  this 
confounded  contretemps.  There  goes  De  Vere.  I  say, 
Dudley,  whom  have  we  at  dinner  to  day  ?  " 

"  Harrington  and  the  Asgills,  and  that  set,"  replied  he, 
with  an  insolent  shrug  of  his  shoulder. 

"  More  of  it,  by  Jove  !  "  said  O'Grady,  biting  his  lip. 
"  One  must  be  as  particular  before  these  people  as  a  young 
sub.  at  a  regimental  mess.  There 's  not  a  button  of  your 
coat,  not  a  loop  of  your  aiguilette,  not  a  twist  of  your 
sword-knot,  little  Charley  won't  note  down  ;  and  as  there 
is  no  orderly  book  in  the  drawing-room,  he  will  whisper  to 
his  Grace  before  coffee." 

"  What  a  bore  !  " 

"  Ay,  and  to  think  that  all  that  time  we  might  have  been 
up  to  the  very  chin  in  fun  !  The  Rooneys  to-day  will 
outdo  even  themselves.  They've  got  half-a-dozen  new 
lords  on  trial;  all  the  judges;  a  live  bishop;  and,  better 
than  all,  every  pretty  woman  in  the  capital.  I  've  a  devil 
of  a  mind  to  get  suddenly  ill,  and  slip  off  to  Paul's  for  the 
dessert." 

"  No,  no,  that 's  out  of  the  question ;  we  must  only  put 
up  with  our  misfortunes  as  well  as  we  can.  As  for  me,  the 
dinner  here  is,  I  think,  the  worst  part  of  the  matter." 

"  I  estimate  my  losses  at  a  very  different  rate.  First, 
there  is  the  three  hundred,  which  I  should  certainly  have 
had  from  Paul,  and  which  now  becomes  a  very  crooked  con- 
tingency. Then  there  's  the  dinner  and  two  bottles  —  I 
speak  moderately  —  of  such  burgundy  as  nobody  has  but 
himself.  These  are  the  positive  bona  fide  losses.  Then, 
what  do  you  say  to  my  chance  of  picking  up  some  lovely 
girl,  with  a  stray  thirty  thousand,  and  the  good  taste  to 
look  out  for  a  proper  fellow  to  spend  it  with  ?  Seriously, 
Jack,  I  must  think  of  something  of  that  kind  one  of  these 
days.  It 's  wrong  to  lose  time ;  for  by  waiting  one 's 
chances  diminish,  while  becoming  more  difficult  to  please. 
So  you  see  what  a  heavy  blow  this  is  to  me  ;  not  to  men- 
tion my  little  gains  at  short-whist,  which  in  the  half-hour 
before  supper  I  may  fairly  set  down  as  a  fifty." 
vol.  i.  —  6 


82  JACK   HIXTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Yours  is  a  very  complicated  calculation ;  for  except 
the  dinner,  and  I  suppose  we  shall  have  as  good  a  one  here, 
I  have  not  been  able  to  see  anything  but  problematic  loss 
or  profit." 

"  Of  course  you  have  n't :  your  English  education  is 
based  upon  grounds  far  too  positive  for  that ;  but  we  mere 
Irish  get  a  habit  of  looking  at  the  possible  as  probable,  and 
the  probable  as  most  likely.  I  don't  think  we  build  castles 
more  than  our  neighbors,  but  we  certainly  go  live  in  them 
earlier  ;  and  if  we  do  now  and  then  get  a  chill  for  our  pains, 
why  we  generally  have  another  building  ready  to  receive  us 
elsewhere  for  change  of  air." 

"  This  is,  I  confess,  somewhat  strange  philosophy." 

"  To  be  sure  it  is,  my  boy ;  for  it  is  of  pure  native  manu- 
facture. Every  other  people  I  ever  heard  of  deduce  their 
happiness  from  their  advantages  and  prosperity.  As  we 
have  very  little  of  one  or  the  other,  we  extract  some  fun 
out  of  our  misfortunes  ;  and  what  between  laughing  occasion- 
ally at  ourselves,  and  sometimes  at  our  neighbors,  we  push 
along  through  life  right  merrily  after  all.  So  now,  then,  to 
apply  my  theory :  let  us  see  what  we  can  do  to  make  the 
best  of  this  disappointment.  Shall  I  make  love  to  Lady 
Asgill  ?  Shall  I  quiz  Sir  Charles  about  the  review  ?  Or 
can  you  suggest  anything  in  the  way  of  a  little  extempora- 
neous devilry,  to  console  us  for  our  disappointment  ?  But, 
come  along,  my  boy,  we  '11  take  a  canter ;  I  want  to  show 
you  Moddiridderoo.  He  improves  every  day  in  his  train- 
ing ;  but  they  tell  me  there  is  only  one  man  can  sit  him 
across  a  country,  —  a  fellow  I  don't  much  fancy,  by-the- 
bye ;  but  the  turf,  like  poverty,  leads  us  to  form  somewhat 
strange  acquaintances.  Meanwhile,  my  boy,  here  come 
the  nags ;  and  now  for  the  park  till  dinner." 

During  our  ride  O'Grady  informed  me  that  the  individual 
to  whom  he  so  slightly  alluded  was  a  Mr.  Ulick  Burke,  a 
cousin  of  Miss  Bellew.  This  individual,  who  by  family  and 
connections  was  a  gentleman,  had  contrived  by  his  life 
and  habits  to  disqualify  himself  from  any  title  to  the 
appellation  in  a  very  considerable  degree.     Having  squan- 


THE   BALL.  83 

dered  the  entire  of  his  patrimony  on  the  turf,  he  had 
followed  the  apparently  immutable  law  on  such  occasions, 
and  ended  by  becoming  a  hawk,  where  he  had  begun  as  a 
pigeon.  For  many  years  past  he  had  lived  by  the  exercise 
of  those  most  disreputable  sources,  his  own  wits.  Present  at 
every  race-course  in  the  kingdom,  and  provided  with  that 
under-current  of  information  obtainable  from  jockeys  and 
stable-men,  he  understood  all  the  intrigue,  all  the  low  cun- 
ning of  the  course.  He  knew  when  to  back  the  favorite, 
when  to  give,  when  to  take  the  odds  ;  and  if  upon  any  occa- 
sion he  was  seen  to  lay  heavily  against  a  well-known  horse, 
the  presumption  became  a  strong  one  that  he  was  either 
"  wrong  "  or  withdrawn.  But  his  qualifications  ended  not 
here ;  for  he  was  also  that  singular  anomaly  in  our  social 
condition,  —  a  gentleman-rider,  ready  upon  any  occasion  to 
get  into  the  saddle  for  any  one  that  engaged  his  services  ;  a 
fiat  race,  or  a  steeple-chase,  all  the  same  to  him.  His  neck 
was  his  livelihood,  and  to  support,  he  must  risk  it.  A 
racing-jacket,  a  pair  of  leathers  and  tops,  a  heavy  handled- 
whip,  and  a  shot-belt  were  his  stock-in-trade,  and  he 
travelled  through  the  world  a  species  of  sporting  Dalgetty, 
minus  the  probity  which  made  the  latter  firm  to  his  engage- 
ments so  long  as  they  lasted.  At  least,  report  denied  the 
quality  to  Mr.  Burke ;  and  those  who  knew  him  well  scru- 
pled not  to  say  that  fifty  pounds  had  exactly  twice  as  many 
arguments  in  its  favor  as  five-and-twenty. 

So  much,  then,  in  brief  concerning  a  character  to  whom  I 
shall  hereafter  have  occasion  to  recur ;  and  now  to  my  own 
narrative. 

O'Grady's  anticipations  as  to  the  Castle  dinner  were  not 
in  the  least  exaggerated.  Nothing  could  possibly  be  more 
stiff  or  tiresome ;  the  entertainment  being  given,  as  a  kind 
of  ex-officio  civility,  to  the  commander-of-the  forces  and  his 
staff,  the  conversation  was  purely  professional,  and  never 
ranged  beyond  the  discussion  of  military  topics,  or  such  as 
bore  in  any  way  upon  the  army.  Happily,  however,  its 
duration  was  short.    We  dined  at  six,  and  by  half-past  eight 


84  JACK   HINTOX,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

we  found  ourselves  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase  of  the 
theatre  in  Crow  Street,  with  Mr.  Jones  in  the  full  dignity 
of  his  managerial  costume  waiting  to  receive  us. 

"  A  little  late,  I  fear,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  his  Grace  with  a 
courteous  smile.     "  'What  have  we  got  ?  " 

"Your  Excellency  selected  the  'Inconstant,'"  said  the 
obsequious  manager ;  while  a  lady  of  the  party  darted  her 
eyes  suddenly  towards  the  duke,  and  with  a  tone  of  marked 
sarcastic  import,  exclaimed,  — 

"  How  characteristic  !  " 

"  And  the  after-piece,  what  is  it  ?  "  said  the  duchess,  as 
she  fussed  her  way  upstairs. 

"  '  Timour  the  Tartar,'  your  Grace." 

The  next  moment  the  thundering  applause  of  the  audi- 
ence informed  us  that  their  Excellencies  had  taken  their 
places.  Cheer  after  cheer  resounded  through  the  building, 
and  the  massive  lustre  itself  shook  under  the  deafening 
acclamations  of  the  audience.  The  scene  was  truly  a  bril- 
liant one.  The  boxes  presented  a  perfect  blaze  of  wealth 
and  beauty;  nearly  every  person  in  the  pit  was  in  full 
dress  ;  to  the  very  ceiling  itself  the  house  was  crammed. 
The  progress  of  the  piece  was  interrupted,  while  the  band 
struck  up  "  God  save  the  King,"  and  as  I  looked  upon  the 
brilliant  dress-circle  I  could  not  but  think  that  O'Grady 
had  been  guilty  of  some  exaggeration  when  he  said  that 
Mrs.  Eooney's  ball  was  to  monopolize  that  evening  the 
youth  and  the  beauty  of  the  capital.  The  National  Anthem 
over,  "  Patrick's  Day "  was  called  for  loudly  from  every 
side,  and  the  whole  house  beat  time  to  the  strains  of  their 
native  melody,  with  an  energy  that  showed  it  came  as  fully 
home  to  their  hearts  as  the  air  that  preceded  it.  For  ten 
minutes  at  least  the  noise  and  uproar  continued;  aud  al- 
though his  Grace  bowed  repeatedly,  there  seemed  no  pros- 
pect to  an  end  of  the  tumult,  when  a  voice  from  the  gallery 
called  out,  "  Don't  make  a  stranger  of  yourself,  my  lord ; 
take  a  chair  and  sit  down."  A  roar  of  laughter,  increased  as 
the  duke  accepted  the  suggestion,  shook  the  house ;  and 
poor  Talbot,  who  all  this  time  was  kneeling  beside  Miss 


THE  BALL.  85 

Walstein's  chair,  was  permitted  to  continue  his  ardent  tale 
of  love,  and  take  up  the  thread  of  his  devotion  where  he 
had  left  it  twenty  minutes  before. 

While  O'Grady,  who  sat  in  the  back  of  the  box,  seemed 
absorbed  in  his  chagrin  and  disappointment,  I  myself  be- 
came interested  in  the  play,  which  was  admirably  per- 
formed ;  and  Lord  Dudley,  leaning  affectedly  against  a 
pillar,  with  his  back  towards  the  stage,  scanned  the  house 
with  his  vapid,  unmeaning  look,  as  though  to  say  they  were 
unworthy  of  such  attention  at  his  hands. 

The  comedy  was  at  length  over,  and  her  Grace,  with  the 
ladies  of  her  suite,  retired,  leaving  only  the  Asgills  and 
some  members  of  the  household  in  the  box  with  his  Excel- 
lency. He  apparently  was  much  entertained  by  the  per- 
formance, and  seemed  most  resolutely  bent  on  staying  to 
the  last.  Before  the  first  act,  however,  of  the  after-piece 
was  over,  many  of  the  benches  in  the  dress-circle  became 
deserted,  and  the  house  altogether  seemed  considerably 
thinner. 

"I  say,  O'Grady,"  said  he,  "what  are  these  good  people 
about?  There  seems  to  be  a  general  move  among  them. 
Is  there  anything  going  on  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Grace,"  said  Phil,  whose  impatience  now  could 
scarcely  be  restrained,  "they  are  going  to  a  great  ball  in 
Stephen's  Green ;  the  most  splendid  thing  Dublin  has  wit- 
nessed these  fifty  years." 

"  Ah,  indeed !     Where  is  it  ?     Who  gives  it  ?  " 
"  Mr.  Rooney,  sir,  a  very  well-known  attorney,  and  a  great 
character  in  the  town." 

"  How  good  !     And  he  does  the  thing  well  ?  " 
"  He  flatters  himself  that  he  rivals  your  Grace." 
"  Better  still !     But  who  has  he  ?    What  are  his  people  ?  " 
"  Every  one  ;  there  is  nothing  too  high,  nothing  too  hand- 
some, nothing  too  distinguished  for  him.     His  house,  like 
the  Holyhead  packet,  is  open  to  all  comers  ;  and  the  conse- 
quence is,  his  parties  are  by  far  the  pleasantest  thing  going. 
One  has  such  strange  rencontres,  sees  such  odd  people,  hears 
such  droll  things ;  for  besides  having  everything  like  a  char- 


86  JACK  HIXTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

aeter  in  the  city,  the  very  gravest  of  Mr.  Rooney's  guests 
seems  to  feel  his  house  as  a  place  to  relax  and  unbend  in. 
Thus,  I  should  not  be  the  least  surprised  to  see  the  chief- 
justice  and  the  attorney-general  playing  small  plays,  nor 
the  bishop  of  Cork  dancing  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley." 

"  Glorious  fun,  by  Jove !  But  why  are  you  not  there, 
lads  ?  Ah,  I  see  :  on  duty.  I  wish  you  had  told  me.  But 
come,  it  is  not  too  late  yet.     Has  Hinton  got  a  card  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Grace." 

"  Well,  then,  don't  let  me  detain  you  any  longer.  I  see 
you  are  both  impatient ;  and  faith,  if  I  must  confess  it,  I 
half  envy  you ;  and  mind  you  give  me  a  full  report  of  the 
proceedings  to-morrow  morning." 

"  How  I  wish  your  Grace  could  only  witness  it  yourself ! " 

"  Eh !     Is  it  so  very  good,  then  ?  " 

"Nothing  ever  was  like  it;  for  although  the  company  is 
admirable,  the  host  and  hostess  are  matchless." 

"  Egad !  you  've  quite  excited  my  curiosity.  I  say, 
O'Grady,  would  they  know  me,  think  ye?  Have  you  no 
uncle  or  country  cousin  about  my  weight  and  build?" 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  that  is  out  of  the  question ;  you  are  too 
well  known  to  assume  an  incognito.  But  still,  if  you  wish 
to  see  it  for  a  few  minutes,  nothing  could  be  easier  than 
just  to  walk  through  the  rooms  and  come  away.  The  crowd 
will  be  such  the  thing  is  quite  practicable,  done  in  that 
way." 

"By  Jove,  I  don't  know;  but  if  I  thought —  To  be  sure, 
as  you  say,  for  five  minutes  or  so  one  might  get  through. 
Come,  here  goes ;  order  up  the  carriages.  Now,  mind, 
O'Grady,  I  am  under  your  management.  Do  the  thing  as 
quietly  as  you  can." 

Elated  at  the  success  of  his  scheme,  Phil  scarcely  waited 
for  his  Grace  to  conclude,  but  sprang  down  the  box-lobby 
to  give  the  necessary  orders,  and  was  back  again  in  an 
instant. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  had  better  take  this  star  off  ?  " 

"Oh  no,  my  lord,  it  will  not  be  necessary.  By  timing 
the  thing  well,  we  '11  contrive  to  get  your  Grace  into  the 


THE   BALL.  87 

midst  of  the  crowd  without  attracting  observation.  Once 
there,  the  rest  is  easy  enough." 

Many  minutes  had  not  elapsed  ere  we  reached  the  corner 
of  Grafton  Street.  Here  we  became  entangled  with  the 
line  of  carriages,  which  extended  more  than  half  way 
round  Stephen's  Green,  and,  late  as  was  the  hour,  were 
still  thronging  and  pressing  onwards  towards  the  scene 
of  festivity.  0' Grady,  who  contrived  entirely  to  engross 
his  Grace's  attention  by  many  bits  of  the  gossip  and  small- 
talk  of  the  day,  did  not  permit  him  to  remark  that  the  vice- 
regal liveries  and  the  guard  of  honor  that  accompanied  us 
enabled  us  to  cut  the  line  of  carriages,  and  taking  prece- 
dence of  all  others,  arrive  at  the  door  at  once.  Indeed,  so 
occupied  was  the  duke  with  some  story  at  the  moment,  that 
he  was  half  provoked  as  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  the 
clattering  clash  of  the  steps  interrupted  the  conversation. 

"  Here  we  are,  my  lord,"  said  Phil. 

"Well,  get  out,  O'Grady.  Lead  on.  Don't  forget  it  is 
my  first  visit  here ;  and  you,  I  fancy,  know  the  map  of  the 
country." 

The  hall  in  which  we  found  ourselves,  brilliantly  lighted 
and  thronged  with  servants,  presented  a  scene  of  the  most 
strange  confusion  and  tumult ;  for  such  was  the  eagerness 
of  the  guests  to  get  forward,  many  persons  were  separated 
from  their  friends.  Turbaned  old  ladies  called  in  cracked 
voices  for  their  sons  to  rescue  them,  and  desolate  daughters 
seized  distractedly  the  arm  nearest  them,  and  implored  suc- 
cor with  an  accent  as  agonizing  as  though  on  the  eve  of 
shipwreck.  Mothers  screamed,  fathers  swore,  footmen 
laughed,  and  high  above  all  came  the  measured  tramp  of 
the  dancers  overhead ;  while  fiddles,  French  horns,  and 
dulcimers  scraped  and  blew  their  worst,  as  if  purposely 
to  increase  the  inextricable  and  maddening  confusion  that 
prevailed. 

"  Sir  Peter  and  Lady  Macfarlane  !  "  screamed  the  servant 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

"  Counsellor  and  Mrs.  Blake  !  " 

"  Captain  O'Ryan  of  the  Rifles  !  " 


88  JACK    HINTON,  THE   GUARDSxMAN. 

"  Lord  Dumboy  —  " 

"  Dunboyne,  you  villain ! " 

"  Ay,  Lord  Dunboyne  and  five  ladies ! " 

Such  were  the  announcements  that  preceded  us  as  we 
wended  our  way  slowly  on ;  while  I  could  distinguish  Mr. 
Eooney's  voice  receiving  and  welcoming  his  guests,  for 
which  purpose  he  used  a  formula,  in  part  derived  from  the 
practice  of  an  auction-room. 

"Walk  in,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  walk  in.  Whist,  tea, 
dancing,  negus,  and  blind-hookey;  delighted  to  see  you; 
walk  in ; "  and  so,  da  capo,  only  varying  the  ritual  when  a 
lord  or  a  baronet  necessitated  a  change  of  title. 

"  You  're  quite  right,  O'Grady ;  I  would  n't  have  lost  this 
for  a  great  deal,"  whispered  the  duke. 

"  Now,  my  lord,  permit  me,"  said  Phil.  "  Hinton  and  I 
will  engage  Mr.  Rooney  in  conversation,  while  your  Grace 
can  pass  on  and  mix  with  the  crowd." 

"Walk  in,  walk  in,  ladies  and —  Ah,  how  are  you, 
Captain  ?  This  is  kind  of  you  —  Mr.  Hinton,  your  hum- 
ble servant  —  Whist,  dancing,  blind-hookey,  and  negus,  — 
walk  in ;  and,  Captain  Phil,"  added  he  in  a  whisper,  "  a  bit 
of  supper  by-and-by  below  stairs." 

"I  must  tell  you  an  excellent  thing,  Rooney,  before  I 
forget  it,"  said  O'Grady,  turning  the  host's  attention  away 
from  the  door  as  he  spoke,  and  inventing  some  imaginary 
secret  for  the  occasion ;  while  I  followed  his  Grace,  who 
now  was  so  inextricably  jammed  up  in  the  dense  mob  that 
any  recognition  of  him  would  have  been  very  difficult,  if 
not  actually  impossible. 

For  some  time  I  could  perceive  that  the  duke's  attention 
was  devoted  to  the  conversation  about  him.  Some  half- 
dozen  ladies  were  carrying  on  a  very  active  and  almost 
acrimonious  controversy  on  the  subject  of  dress, — not, 
however,  with  any  artistic  pretension  of  regulating  costume 
or  color;  not  discussing  the  rejection  of  an  old  or  the  adop- 
tion of  a  new  mode ;  but  with  a  much  more  practical  spirit 
of  inquiry  they  were  appraising  and  valuing  each  other's 
finery,  in  the  most  sincere  and  simple  way  imaginable. 


THE   BALL.  89 

" Seven-and-sixpence  a  yard,  my  dear;  you'll  never  get 
it  less,  I  assure  you."  "That's  elegant  lace,  Mrs.  Mahony; 
was  it  run,  ma'am  ?  "  Mrs.  Mahony  bridled  at  the  sugges- 
tion, and  replied  that  though  neither  her  lace  nor  her  dia- 
monds were  Irish —  "Six  breadths,  ma'am,  always  in 
the  skirt,"  said  a  fat,  little,  dumpy  woman,  holding  up  her 
satin  petticoat  in  evidence. 

"I  say,  Hinton,"  whispered  the  duke,  "I  hope  they 
won't  end  by  an  examination  of  us.  But  what  the  deuce  is 
going  on  here  ?  " 

This  remark  was  caused  by  a  very  singular  movement  in 
the  room.  The  crowd  which  had  succeeded  to  the  dancers, 
and  filled  the  large  drawing-room  from  end  to  end,  now  fell 
back  to  either  wall,  leaving  a  space  of  about  a  yard  wide 
down  the  entire  centre  of  the  room,  as  though  some  per- 
formance was  about  to  be  enacted  or  some  procession  to 
march  there. 

"  What  can  it  be  ?  "  said  the  duke,  —  "  some  foolery  of 
O'Grady's,  depend  upon  it ;  for  look  at  him  up  there  talking 
to  the  band." 

As  he  spoke,  the  musicians  struck  up  the  grand  march  in 
Blue  Beard,  and  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney  appeared  in  the  open 
space  in  all  the  plenitude  of  her  charms,  —  a  perfect  blaze 
of  rouge,  red  feathers,  and  rubies,  —  marching  in  solemn 
state.  She  moved  along  in  time  to  the  music,  followed  by 
Paul,  whose  cunning  eyes  twinkled  with  more  than  a  com- 
mon shrewdness,  as  he  peered  here  and  there  through  the 
crowd.  They  came  straight  towards  where  we  were  stand- 
ing ;  and  while  a  whispered  murmur  ran  through  the  room, 
the  various  persons  around  us  drew  back,  leaving  the  duke 
and  myself  completely  isolated.  Before  his  Grace  could 
recover  his  concealment,  Mrs.  Rooney  stood  before  him. 
The  music  suddenly  ceased ;  while  the  lady,  disposing  her 
petticoats  as  though  the  object  were  to  conceal  all  the 
company  behind  her,  courtesied  down  to  the  very  floor. 

"  Ah,  your  Grace,"  uttered  in  an  accent  of  the  most  melt- 
ing tenderness,  were  the  only  words  she  could  speak,  as  she 
bestowed  a  look  of  still  more  speaking  softness.     "  Ah,  did 


90 


JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


I   ever  hope  to  see  the  day  when  your   Highness  would 
honor —  " 

"My  dear  madam,"  said  the  duke,  as  taking  her  hand 
with  great  courtesy,  "  pray  don't  overwhelm  me  with  obli- 
gations.    A  very  natural,  I  hope  a  very  pardonable  desire 


m 


,.  •n 


fern  '->  -  WJ) 


to  witness  hospitality  I  have  heard  so  much  of  has  led  me 
to  intrude  thus  uninvited  upon  you.  Will  you  allow  me  to 
make  Mr.  Eooney's  acquaintance  ?  " 

Mrs.  Kooney  moved  gracefully  to  one  side,  waving  her 
hand  with  the  air  of  a  magician  about  to  summon  an  attor- 
ney from  the  earth,  when  suddenly  a  change  came  over  his 
Grace's  features ;  and  as  he  covered  his  mouth  with  his 
handkerchief,  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  he  re- 
frained from  an  open  burst  of  laughter.  The  figure  before 
him  was  certainly  not  calculated  to  suggest  gravity. 

Mr.  Paul  Rooney  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  found  him- 
self the  host  of  a  viceroy,  and,  amid  the  fumes  of  his  wine 


THE   BALL.  91 

and  the  excitement  of  the  scene,  entertained  some  very  con- 
fused notion  of  certain  ceremonies  observable  on  such  occa- 
sions. He  had  read  of  curious  observances  in  the  East  and 
strange  forms  of  etiquette  in  China,  and  probably  had  the 
Khan  of  Tartary  dropped  in  on  the  evening  in  question  his 
memory  would  have  supplied  him  with  some  hints  for  his 
reception ;  but  with  the  representative  of  Britannic  Ma,- 
jesty,  before  whom  he  was  so  completely  overpowered,  he 
could  not  think  of  nor  decide  upon  anything.  A  very 
misty  impression  flitted  through  his  mind  that  people  oc- 
casionally knelt  before  a  lord-lieutenant ;  but  whether  they 
did  so  at  certain  moments,  or  as  a  general  practice,  for  the 
life  of  him  he  could  not  tell.  While,  therefore,  the  dread 
of  omitting  a  customary  etiquette  weighed  with  him  on  the 
one  hand,  the  fear  of  ridicule  actuated  him  on  the  other ; 
and  thus  he  advanced  into  the  presence  with  bent  knees 
and  a  supplicating  look  eagerly  turned  towards  the  duke, 
ready  at  any  moment  to  drop  down  or  stand  upright  before 
him  as  the  circumstances  might  warrant. 

Entering  at  once  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  the  duke  bowed 
with  the  most  formal  courtesy,  while  he  vouchsafed  to  Mr. 
Eooney  some  few  expressions  of  compliment.  At  the  same 
time,  drawing  Mrs.  Rooney's  arm  within  his  own,  he  led 
her  down  the  room  with  a  grace  and  dignity  of  manner  no 
one  was  more  master  of  than  himself.  As  for  Paul,  appar- 
ently unable  to  stand  upright  under  the  increasing  load  of 
favors  that  fortune  was  showering  upon  his  head,  he  looked 
over  his  shoulder  at  Mrs.  Rooney,  as  she  marched  off  in 
triumph,  with  the  same  exuberant  triumph  Young  used  to 
throw  into  Othello,  as  he  passionately  exclaims,  — 

"  Excellent  wench  !  perdition  catch  my  soul,  but  I  do  love  thee  !  " 

Not  but  that,  at  the  very  moment  in  question,  the  object 
of  it  was  most  ungratefully  oblivious  of  Mr.  Rooney  and 
his  affection. 

Had  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney  been  asked  on  the  morning  after 
her  ball  what  was  her  most  accurate  notion  of  Elysian  bliss, 
she  probably  would  have  answered,  —  leaning  upon  a  vice- 


92  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

roy's  arm  in  her  own  ball-room,  under  the  envious  stare 
and  jealous  gaze  of  eight  hundred  assembled  guests.  Her 
flushed  look,  her  flashing  eye,  the  trembling  hand  with 
which  she  waved  her  fan,  the  proud  imperious  step, — all 
spoke  of  triumph.  In  fact,  such  was  the  halo  of  reverence, 
such  the  reflected  brightness  the  representative  of  monarchy 
then  bore,  she  felt  it  a  prouder  honor  to  be  thus  escorted  than 
if  the  emperor  of  all  the  Russias  had  deigned  to  grace  her 
mansion  with  his  presence.  How  she  loved  to  run  over 
every  imaginable  title  she  conceived  applicable  to  his  rank, 
"  Your  Royal  Highness,"  "  Your  Grace,"  "  Your  noble  Lord- 
ship," —  varying  and  combining  them,  like  a  child  who  runs 
his  erring  fingers  over  the  keys  of  a  pianoforte,  and  is  de- 
lighted with  the  efforts  of  his  skill  ! 

While  this  kingly  scene  was  thus  enacting,  the  ball-room 
resumed  its  former  life  and  vivacity.  This  indeed  was 
owing  to  O'Grady.  No  sooner  had  his  scheme  succeeded 
of  delivering  up  the  duke  into  the  hands  of  the  Rooneys, 
than  he  set  about  restoring  such  a  degree  of  turmoil,  tu- 
mult, noise,  and  merriment  as,  while  it  should  amuse  his 
Grace,  would  rescue  him  from  the  annoyance  of  being 
stared  at  by  many  who  never  had  walked  the  boards  with 
a  live  viceroy. 

"  Is  n't  it  gloriously  done,  Hinton  ?  "  he  whispered  in  my 
ear  as  he  passed.  "  Now  lend  me  your  aid,  my  boy,  to  keep 
the  whole  thing  moving.  Get  a  partner  as  quick  as  you 
can,  and  let  us  try  if  we  can't  do  the  honors  of  the  house, 
while  the  master  and  mistress  are  basking  in  the  sunshine 
of  royal  favor." 

As  he  spoke,  the  band  struck  up  "Haste  to  the  Wed- 
ding !  "  The  dancers  assumed  their  places,  —  Phil  himself 
flying  hither  and  thither,  arranging,  directing,  ordering, 
countermanding,  providing  partners  for  persons  he  had 
never  seen  before,  and  introducing  individuals  of  whose 
very  names  he  was  ignorant. 

"Push  along,  Hinton,"  said  he;  "  only  set  them  going. 
Speak  to  every  one :  half  the  men  in  the  room  answer  to 
the  name  of  '  Bob,'   and  all  the  young  ladies  are  '  Miss 


THE   BALL.  93 

Magees.'     Then  go  it,  my  boy !  this  is  a  great  night  for 
Ireland  !  " 

This  happy  land  indeed,  which  like  a  vast  powder- 
magazine  only  wants  but  the  smallest  spark  to  ignite  it,  is 
always  prepared  for  an  explosion  of  fun.  No  sooner  than 
did  O'Grady,  taking  out  the  fattest  woman  in  the  room, 
proceed  to  lead  her  down  the  middle  to  the  liveliest  imagi- 
nable country -dance,  than  at  once  the  contagious  spirit  flew 
through  the  room,  and  dancers  pressed  in  from  every  side. 
Champagne  served  round  in  abundance  added  to  the  excite- 
ment; and  as  eight-and-thirty  couple  made  the  floor  vi- 
brate beneath  them,  such  a  scene  of  noise,  laughter,  uproar, 
and  merriment  ensued  as  it  were  difficult  to  conceive  or 
describe. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    FINALE    TO    AN    EVENING. 

A  ball,  like  a  battle,  has  its  critical  moment,  —  that  one 
short  and  subtile  point,  on  which  its  trembling  fate  would 
seem  to  hesitate,  ere  it  incline  to  this  side  or  that.  In  both, 
such  is  the  time  for  generalship  to  display  itself,  —  and  of 
this  my  friend  0' Grady  seemed  well  aware  ;  for  calling  up 
his  reserve  for  an  attack  in  force,  he  ordered  strong  negus 
for  the  band,  and  ere  many  minutes  the  increased  vigor 
of  the  instruments  attested  that  the  order  had  been 
attended  to. 

"  Eight  and  left !  "  "  Hands  across  !  "  "  Here  we  are  !  " 
"  This  way,  Peter  !  "  "  Ah,  Captain,  you  're  a  droll  cray- 
ture  !  "  "  Move  along,  alderman  !  "  "  That  negus  is  mighty 
strong !  "     "  The  Lord  grant  the  house  is  —  " 

Such  and  such  like  phrases  broke  around  me  as,  under  the 
orders  of  the  irresistible  Phil,  I  shuffled  down  the  middle 
with  a  dumpy  little  school-girl  with  red  hair  and  red  shoes, 
which,  added  to  her  capering  motion,  gave  her  a  most  un- 
happy resemblance  to  a  cork  fairy. 

"  You  are  a  trump,  Jack,"  said  Phil.  "  Never  give  in  ! 
I  never  was  in  such  spirits  in  my  life.  Two  bottles  of 
champagne  under  my  belt,  and  a  cheque  for  three  hundred 
Paul  has  just  given  me  without  a  scrape  of  my  pen  :  it 
might  have  been  five  if  I  had  only  had  presence  of  mind." 

"  Where  is  Miss  Bellew  all  this  time  ?  "  inquired  I. 

"  I  only  saw  her  for  a  moment ;  she  iooks  saucy,  and 
won't  dance." 

My  pride  somewhat  stimulated  by  a  fact  which  I  could 
not  help  interpreting  in  Miss  Bellew's  favor,  I  went  through 
the  rooms  in  search  of  her,  and  at  length  discovered  her  in 


A   FINALE   TO   AN  EVENING.  95 

a  boudoir  where  a  whist-party  were  assembled.  She  was 
sitting  upon  a  sofa  beside  a  tall,  venerable-looking  old  man, 
to  whom  she  was  listening  with  a  semblance  of  the  great- 
est attention  as  I  entered.  I  had  some  time  to  observe  her, 
and  could  not  help  feeling  struck  how  much  handsomer  she 
was  than  I  had  formerly  supposed.  Her  figure,  slightly 
above  the  middle  size,  and  most  graceful  in  all  its  propor- 
tions, was  perhaps  a  little  too  much  disposed  to  embonpoint ; 
\he  character  of  her  features,  however,  seemed  to  suit  if 
not  actually  to  require  as  much.  Her  eyes  of  deep  blue, 
set  well  beneath  her  brow,  had  a  look  of  intensity  in  them 
that  evidenced  thought ;  but  the  other  features  relieved  by 
their  graceful  softness  this  strong  expression,  and  a  nose 
short  and  slightly,  very  slightly,  retrousse,  with  a  mouth 
the  very  perfection  of  eloquent  and  winning  softness,  made 
ample  amends  to  those  who  prefer  charms  purely  feminine 
to  beauty  of  a  severer  character.  Her  hair,  too,  was  of  that 
deep  auburn  through  which  a  golden  light  seems  forever 
playing ;  and  this,  contrary  to  the  taste  of  the  day,  she 
wore  simply  braided  upon  her  temple  and  cheeks,  marking 
the  oval  contour  of  her  face,  and  displaying  by  this  graceful 
coquetry  the  perfect  chiselling  of  her  features.  Let  me 
add  to  this,  that  her  voice  was  low  and  soft  in  all  its  tones  ; 
and  if  the  provincialism  with  which  she  spoke  did  at  first 
offend  my  ear,  I  learned  afterwards  to  think  that  the 
breathing  intonations  of  the  west  lent  a  charm  of  their 
own  to  all  she  said,  deepening  the  pathos  of  a  simple  story, 
or  heightening  the  drollery  of  a  merry  one.  Yes,  laugh  if 
you  will,  ye  high-bred  and  high-born  denizens  of  a  richer 
sphere,  wThose  ears,  attuned  to  the  rhythm  of  Metastasio, 
softly  borne  on  the  strains  of  Donizetti,  can  scarce  pardon 
the  intrusion  of  your  native  tongue  in  the  every-day  con- 
cerns of  life,  —  smile  if  it  so  please  ye ;  but  from  the  lips 
of  a  lovely  woman  a  little,  a  very  little,  of  the  brogue  is 
most  seductive.  Whether  the  subject  be  grave  or  gay, 
whether  mirth  or  melancholy  be  the  mood,  like  the  varnish 
upon  a  picture,  it  brings  out  all  the  color  into  strong  effect, 
brightening  the  lights  and  deepening  the   shadows ;   and 


96  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

then,  somehow,  there  is  an  air  of  naivete,  a  tone  of  sim- 
plicity about  it,  that  appeals  equally  to  your  heart  as  your 
hearing. 

Seeing  that  the  conversation  in  which  she  was  engaged 
seemed  to  engross  her  entire  attention,  I  was  about  to  retire 
without  addressing  her,  when  suddenly  she  turned  round 
and  her  eyes  met  mine.  I  accordingly  came  forward,  and, 
after  a  few  of  the  commonplace  civilities  of  the  moment, 
asked  her  to  dance. 

"  Pray,  excuse  me,  Mr.  Hinton ;  I  have  declined  already 
several  times.  I  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  meet  with 
a  very  old  and  dear  friend  of  my  father  —  " 

"  Who  is  much  too  attached  to  his  daughter  to  permit 
her  to  waste  an  entire  evening  upon  him.  No,  sir,  if  you 
will  allow  me,  I  will  resign  Miss  Bellew  to  your  care." 

She  said  something  in  a  low  voice,  to  which  he  muttered 
in  reply.  The  only  words  which  I  could  catch  —  "  No,  no ; 
very  different,  indeed ;  this  is  a  most  proper  person "  — 
seemed,  as  they  were  accompanied  bj  a  smile  of  much 
kindness,  in  some  way  to  concern  me ;  and  the  next  mo- 
ment Miss  Bellew  took  my  arm  and  accompanied  me  to 
the  ball-room. 

As  I  passed  the  sofa  where  the  duke  and  Mrs.  Rooney 
were  still  seated,  his  Grace  nodded  familiarly  to  me,  with  a 
gesture  of  approval ;  while  Mrs.  Paul  clasped  both  her  hands 
before  her  with  a  movement  of  ecstasy,  and  seemed  about 
to  bestow  upon  us  a  maternal  blessing.  Fearful  of  in- 
curring a  scene,  Miss  Bellew  hastened  on,  and  as  her  arm 
trembled  within  mine  I  could  perceive  how  deeply  the 
ridicule  of  her  friend's  position  wounded  her  own  pride. 
Meanwhile,  I  could  just  catch  the  tones  of  Mrs.  Rooney's 
voice,  explaining  to  the  duke  Miss  Bellew's  pedigree, — 
"  One  of  the  oldest  families  of  the  land,  your  Grace ;  came 
over  with  Romulus  and  Remus ;  and  if  it  were  not  for 
Oliver  Cromwell  and  the  Danes  —  "  the  confounded  fiddles 
lost  the  rest,  and  I  was  left  in  the  dark,  to  guess  what 
these  strange  allies  had  inflicted  upon  the  Bellew  family. 

The  dancing  now  began,  and  only  between  the  intervals 


A   FINALE   TO   AN  EVENING.  97 

of  the  cotillon  had  I  an  opportunity  of  conversing  with  my 
partner.  Few  and  brief  as  these  occasions  were,  I  was  de- 
lighted to  find  in  her  a  tone  and  manner  quite  different 
from  anything  I  had  ever  met  before.  Although  having 
seen  scarcely  anything  of  the  world,  her  knowledge  of 
character  seemed  an  instinct;  and  her  quick  appreciation 
of  the  ludicrous  features  of  many  of  the  company  was  ac- 
companied by  a  naive  expression,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
witty  terseness  of  phrase,  that  showed  me  how  much  real 
intelligence  lay  beneath  that  laughing  look.  Unlike  my 
fair  cousin,  Lady  Julia,  her  raillery  never  wounded.  Hers 
were  the  fanciful  combinations  which  a  vivid  and  sparkling 
imagination  conjures  up,  but  never  the  barbed  and  bitter 
arrows  of  sarcasm.  Catching  up  in  a  second  any  passing 
absurdity,  she  could  laugh  at  the  scene,  yet  seem  to  spare 
the  actor.  Julia,  on  the  contrary,  with  what  the  French  call 
V esprit  moqueur,  never  felt  that  her  wit  had  hit  its  mark  till 
she  saw  her  victim  writhing  and  quivering  beneath  her. 

There  is  always  something  in  being  the  partner  of  the 
belle  of  a  ball-room.  The  little  bit  of  envy  and  jealousy, 
whose  limit  is  to  be  the  duration  of  a  waltz  or  quadrille, 
has  somehow  its  feeling  of  pleasure.  There  is  the  reflective 
flattery  in  the  thought  of  a  fancied  preference  that  raises 
one  in  his  own  esteem ;  and  as  the  muttered  compliments 
and  half-spoken  praises  of  the  bystanders  fall  upon  your 
ears,  you  seem  to  feel  that  you  are  a  kind  of  shareholder  in 
the  company,  and  ought  to  retire  from  business  with  your 
portion  of  the  profits.  Such,  I  know,  were  some  of  my 
feelings  at  the  period  in  question ;  and  as  I  pulled  up  my 
stock  and  adjusted  my  sash,  I  looked  upon  the  crowd  about 
me  with  a  sense  of  considerable  self-satisfaction,  and  began 
really  for  the  first  time  to  enjoy  myself. 

Scarcely  was  the  dance  concluded  when  a  general  move- 
ment was  perceptible  towards  the  door,  and  the  word 
"  supper,"  repeated  from  voice  to  voice,  announced  that  the 
merriest  hour  in  Irish  life  had  sounded.  Delighted  to 
have  Miss  Bellew  for  my  companion,  I  edged  my  way  into 
the  mass,  and  was  borne  along  on  the  current. 

VOL.  I.  —  7 


98  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

The  view  from  the  top  of  the  staircase  was  sufficiently 
amusing.     A  waving  mass  of  feathers  of  every  shape  and 
hue,  a  crowd  of  spangled  turbans,  bald  and  powdered  heads, 
seemed  wedged  inextricably  together,  swaying  backwards 
and  forwards  with  one  impulse,  as  the  crowd  at  the  door  of 
the  supper-room  advanced  or  receded.     The  crash  of  plates 
and  knives,  the  jingling  of  glasses,  the  popping  of  cham- 
pagne corks,  told  that  the  attack  had  begun,  had  not  even 
the  eager  faces  of  those  nearer  the  door  indicated  as  much. 
Nulli  ocull  retrorsum  seemed  the   motto  of  the  day,  save 
when   some   anxious   mother  would  turn  a  backward  and 
uneasy  glance  towards  the  staircase,  where  her  daughter, 
preferring  a  lieutenant   to   a  lobster,  was   listening   with 
elated  look  to  his  tale  of  love  and  glory.     "  Eliza,  my  dear, 
sit  next  me."  —  "  Anna,  my  love,  come  down  here."     These 
brief  commands,  significantly  as  they  were  uttered,  would 
be   lost  to  those   for  whom  intended,  and   only  serve   to 
amuse  the  bystanders,  and  awaken  them  to  a  quicker  per- 
ception of   the  passing   flirtation.     Some  philosopher   has 
gravely  remarked  that  the  critical  moments  of  our  life  are 
the  transitions  from  one  stage  or  state  of  our  existence  to 
another;    and   that  our   fate  for  the  future  depends  in  a 
great  measure  upon  those  hours  in  which  we  emerge  from 
infancy  to  boyhood,  from  boyhood  to  manhood,  from  man- 
hood to  maturer   years.     Perhaps   the  arguments  of  time 
might  be  applied  to  place,  and  we  might  thus  be  enabled  to 
show  how  a  staircase  is  the  most  dangerous  portion  of  a 
building.     I  speak  not  here  of  the  insecurity  of  the  archi- 
tecture, nor,  indeed,  of  any  staircase  whose  well-tempered 
light  shines  down  at  noonday  through  the  perfumed  foliage 
of  a  conservatory  ;  but  of  the  same  place,  a  blaze  of  lamp- 
light, about  two  in  the  morning,  crowded,  crammed,   and 
creaking  by  an  anxious  and  elated  throng  pressing  towards 
a  supper-room.     Whether  it  is  the  supper  or  the  squeeze, 
the  odor  of  balmy  lips  or  the  savory  smell  of  roast  ducks  ; 
whether  it  be  the  approach  to  silk  tresses  or  sillery  mous- 
seuX)  —  whatever  the  provocation,  I  cannot  explain  it ;  but 
the  fact  is  so :  one  is  tremendously  given  in  such  a  place, 


A   FINALE   TO   AN   EVENING.  99 

at  such  a  time,  to  the  most  barefaced  and  palpable  flirta- 
tion. So  strongly  do  I  feel  on  this  point,  that,  were  I  a 
law-giver,  I  would  never  award  damages  for  a  breach  of 
contract  where  the  promise  was  made  on  a  staircase. 

As  for  me,  my  acquaintance  with  Miss  Bellew  was  not  of 
more  than  an  hour's  standing.  During  that  time  we  had 
contrived  to  discuss  the  ball-room,  its  guests,  its  lights,  its 
decorations,  the  music,  the  dancers,  —  in  a  word,  all  the 
commonplaces  of  an  evening  party ;  thence  we  wandered 
on  to  Dublin,  society  in  general,  to  Ireland,  and  Irish 
habits  and  Irish  tastes  ;  quizzed  each  other  a  little  about 
our  respective  peculiarities,  and  had  just  begun  to  discuss 
the  distinctive  features  which  characterize  the  softer  emo- 
tions in  the  two  nations,  when  the  announcement  of  supper 
brought  us  on  the  staircase.  Apropos,  or  mal  ajyropos,  this 
turn  of  our  conversation,  let  the  reader  decide  by  Avhat  I 
have  already  stated ;  so  it  was,  however,  and  in  a  little 
nook  of  the  landing  I  found  myself  with  my  fair  compan- 
ion's arm  pressed  closely  to  my  side,  engaged  in  a  warm 
controversy  on  the  trite  subject  of  English  coldness  of 
manner.  Advocating  my  country,  I  deemed  that  no  more 
fitting  defence  could  be  entered  than  by  evidencing  in  my- 
self the  utter  absence  of  the  frigidity  imputed.  Champagne 
did  something  for  me ;  Louisa's  bright  eyes  assisted ;  but 
the  staircase,  the  confounded  staircase,  crowned  all.  In 
fact,  the  undisguised  openness  of  Miss  Bellew's  manner. 
the  fearless  simplicity  with  which  she  had  ventured  upon 
topics  a  hardened  coquette  would  not  dare  to  touch  upon, 
led  me  into  the  common  error  of  imputing  to  flirtation 
what  was  only  due  to  the  untarnished  freshness  of  happy 
girlhood. 

Finding  my  advances  well  received,  I  began  to  feel  not  a 
little  proud  of  my  success,  and  disposed  to  plume  myself 
upon  the  charm  of  my  eloquence,  when,  as  I  concluded  a 
high-flown  and  inflated  phrase  of  sentimental  absurdity, 
she  suddenly  turned  round,  fixed  her  bright  eyes  upon  me, 
and  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"There,  there!   pray,  don't  try  that!     No  one    but  an 


100  JACK   HINTON,   THE  GUARDSMAN. 

Irishman  ever  succeeds  in  blarney.  It  is  our  national  dish, 
and  can  never  be  seasoned  by  a  stranger." 

This  pull-up,  for  such  it  most  effectually  was,  completely 
unmanned  me.  I  tried  to  stammer  out  an  explanation,  en- 
deavored to  laugh,  coughed,  blundered,  and  broke  down  ; 
while,  merciless  in  her  triumph,  she  only  laughed  the  more, 
and  seemed  to  enjoy  my  confusion. 

With  such  a  failure  hanging  over  me,  I  felt  happy  when 
we  reached  the  supper-room ;  and  the  crash,  din,  and  con- 
fusion about  us  once  more  broke  in  upon  our  conversa- 
tion. It  requires  far  less  nerve  for  the  dismounted  jockey, 
whose  gay  jacket  has  been  rolled  in  the  mud  of  a  race- 
course, resuming  his  saddle,  to  ride  in  amid  the  jeers  and 
scoffs  of  ten  thousand  spectators,  than  for  the  gallant  who 
has  blundered  in  the  full  tide  of  a  flirtation  to  recover  his 
lost  position,  and  sustain  the  current  of  his  courtship.  The 
sarcasm  of  our  sex  is  severe  enough,  Heaven  knows ;  but 
no  raillery,  no  ridicule,  cuts  half  so  sharp  or  half  so  deep 
as  the  bright  twinkle  of  a  pretty  girl's  eye,  when,  detect- 
ing some  exhibition  of  dramatized  passion,  some  false 
glitter  of  pinchbeck  sentiment,  she  exchanges  her  look  of 
gratified  attention  for  the  merry  mockery  of  a  hearty  laugh. 
No  tact,  no  savoir  /aire,  no  knowledge  of  the  world,  no  old 
soldierism  that  ever  I  heard  of,  was  proof  against  this.  To 
go  back  is  bad ;  to  stand  still,  worse ;  to  go  on,  impossible. 
The  best  —  for  I  believe  it  is  the  only  thing  to  do  —  is  to 
turn  approver  on  your  own  misdeeds,  and  join  in  the  laugh- 
ter against  yourself.  Now,  this  requires  no  common  self- 
mastery,  and  an  aplomb  few  young  gentlemen  under  twenty 
possess  ;  hence  both  my  failure  and  its  punishment. 

That  staircase,  which  but  a  moment  before  I  wished  might 
be  as  long  as  a  journey  to  Jerusalem,  I  now  escaped 'from 
with  thankfulness.  Concealing  my  discomfiture  as  well  as 
I  was  able,  I  bustled  about,  and  finally  secured  a  place  for 
my  companion  at  one  of  the  side  tables.  We  were  too 
far  from  the  head  of  the  table,  but  the  clear  ringing  of  his 
Grace's  laughter  informed  me  of  his  vicinity ;  and  as  I  saw 
Miss  Bellew  shrank  from  approaching  that  part  of  the  room, 


A   FINALE  TO   AN   EVENING.  101 

I  surrendered  my  curiosity  to  the  far  more  grateful  task  of 
cultivating  her  acquaintance. 

All  the  ardor  of  my  attentions,  —  and  I  had  resumed  them 
with  nearly  as  much  warmth,  although  less  risk  of  discomfi- 
ture, for  I  began  to  feel  what  before  I  had  only  professed,  — 
all  the  preoccupation  of  my  mind,  could  not  prevent  my 
hearing  high  above  the  crash  and  clatter  of  the  tables  the 
rich  roundness  of  Mrs.  Rooney's  brogue,  as  she  recounted 
to  the  duke  some  interesting  trait  of  the  O'Toole  family,  or 
adverted  to  some  classical  era  in  Irish  history,  when,  possi- 
bly, Mecsenas  was  mayor  of  Cork,  or  Diogenes  an  alderman 
of  Skinner's  Alley. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  —  the  Lord  forgive  me  !  I  mean  your 
Grace." 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  you,  Mrs.  Rooney,  if  you  change 
the  epithet." 

"  Ah,  your  Grace's  worship,  them  was  fine  times ;  and 
the  husband  of  an  O'Toole  in  them  days  spent  more  of  his 
time  harrying  the  country  with  his  troops  at  his  back  than 
driving  about  in  an  old  gig  full  of  writs  and  latitats,  with  a 
process-server  behind  him." 

Had  Mr.  Rooney,  who  at  that  moment  was  carving  a  hare 
in  total  ignorance  of  his  wife's  sarcasm,  only  heard  the 
speech,  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  he  would  have  figured  in 
a  steel  breastplate  and  an  iron  headpiece  before  the  week 
was  over.  I  was  unable  to  hear  more  of  the  conversation, 
notwithstanding  my  great  wish  to  do  so,  as  a  movement  of 
those  next  the  door  implied  that  a  large  instalment  of  the 
guests  who  had  not  supped  would  wait  no  longer,  but  were 
about  to  make  what  Mr.  Rooney  called  a  forcible  entry  on 
a  summary  process,  and  eject  the  tenant  in  possession. 

"We  accordingly  rose,  and  all  (save  the  party  around  the 
viceroy)  along  with  us,  once  more  to  visit  the  ball-room, 
where  already  dancing  had  begun.  While  I  was  eagerly 
endeavoring  to  persuade  Miss  Bellew  that  there  was  no 
cause  or  just  impediment  to  prevent  her  dancing  the  next 
set  with  me,  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  lounged  affectedly  for- 
ward, and  mumbled  out  some  broken  indistinct  phrases,  in 


102  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

which  the  word  "  da — ance  "  was  alone  audible.  Miss  Bel- 
lew  colored  slightly,  turned  her  eyes  towards  me,  cour- 
tesied,  took  his  arm,  and  the  next  moment  was  lost  amid 
the  crowd. 

I  am  not  aware  of  any  readier  method  of  forming  a  no- 
tion of  perpetual  motion  than  watching  the  performance  of 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  at  an  evening  party  in  Dublin.  It 
seems  to  be  a  point  of  honor  never  to  give  in ;  and  thus  the 
same  complicated  figures,  the  same  mystic  movements  that 
you  see  in  the  beginning,  continue  to  succeed  each  other  in 
a  never-ending  series.  You  endeavor  in  vain  to  detect  the 
plan,  to  unravel  the  tangled  web  of  this  strange  ceremony ; 
but  somehow  it  would  seem  as  if  the  whole  thing  was  com- 
pletely discretionary  with  the  dancers,  —  there  being  only 
one  point  of  agreement  among  them,  which  is,  whenever 
blown  and  out  of  breath,  to  join  in  a  vigorous  hands-round ; 
and  the  motion  being  confined  to  a  shuffling  of  the  feet  and 
a  shaking  of  the  elbows,  little  fatigue  is  incurred.  To  this 
succeeds  a  capering  forward-movement  of  a  gentleman,  which 
seemingly  magnetizes  an  opposite  lady  to  a  similiar  exhibi- 
tion ;  then,  after  seizing  each  other  rapturously  by  the  hands, 
they  separate  to  run  the  gantlet  in  and  out  down  the  whole 
line  of  dancers,  to  meet  at  the  bottom,  when,  apparently  rec- 
onciled, they  once  more  embrace.  What  follows,  the  devil 
himself  may  tell.  As  for  me,  I  heard  only  laughing,  titter- 
ing, now  and  then  a  slight  scream,  and  a  cry  of  "  Behave, 
Mr.  Murphy  !  "  etc. ;  but  the  movements  themselves  were 
conic  sections  to  me,  and  I  closed  my  eyes  as  I  sat  alone  in 
my  corner,  and  courted  sleep  as  a  short  oblivion  to  the  scene. 
Unfortunately  I  succeeded ;  for  wild  and  singular  as  the 
gestures,  the  looks,  and  the  voices  were  before,  they  now 
became  to  my  dreaming  senses  something  too  terrible.  I 
thought  myself  in  the  centre  of  some  hobgoblin  orgie,  where 
demons,  male  and  female,  were  performing  their  fantastic 
antics  around  me,  grinning  hideously,  and  uttering  cries  of 
menacing  import.  Tarn  O'Shanter's  vision  was  a  respecta- 
ble tea-party  of  Glasgow  matrons  compared  to  my  imagin- 
ings ;  for  so  distorted  were  the  pictures  of  my  brain,  that 


A   FINALE   TO   AN  EVENING.  103 

the  leader  of  the  band,  a  peaceable-looking  old  man  in  shorts 
and  spectacles,  seemed  to  me  like  a  grim-visaged  imp,  who 
flourished  his  tail  across  the  strings  of  his  instrument  in 
lieu  of  a  bow. 

I  must  confess  that  the  dancers,  without  any  wish  on  my 
part  to  detract  from  their  efforts,  had  not  the  entire  merit 
of  this  transmutation.  Fatigue  (for  the  hour  was  late), 
chagrin  at  being  robbed  of  my  partner,  added  to  the  heat 
and  the  crowd,  had  all  their  share  in  the  mystification. 
Besides,  if  I  must  confess  it,  Mr.  Rooney's  champagne  was 
strong.  My  friend  O'Grady,  however,  seemed  but  little  of 
my  opinion ;  for,  like  the  master-spirit  of  the  scene,  he 
seemed  to  direct  every  movement  and  dictate  every  change, 
—  no  touch  of  fatigue,  no  semblance  of  exhaustion,  about 
him.  On  the  contrary,  as  the  hour  grew  later,  and  the  pale 
gray  of  morning  began  to  mingle  with  the  glare  of  wax- 
lights,  the  vigor  of  his  performance  only  increased,  and 
several  new  steps  were  displayed,  which,  like  a  prudent 
general,  he  seemed  to  have  kept  in  reserve  for  the  end  of 
the  engagement.  And  what  a  sad  thing  is  a  ball  as  it 
draws  towards  the  close !  What  an  emblem  of  life  at  a 
similar  period !  How  much  freshness  has  faded,  how  much 
of  beauty  has  passed  away,  how  many  illusions  are  dissi- 
pated ;  how  many  dreams  the  lamp-light  and  chalk-floors 
have  called  into  life  fly  like  spirits  with  the  first  beam 
of  sunlight !  The  eye  of  proud  bearing  is  humbled  now ; 
the  cheek,  whose  downy  softness  no  painter  could  have 
copied,  looks  pale  and  wan  and  haggard;  the  beaming 
looks,  the  graceful  bearing,  the  elastic  step,  where  are  they  ? 
Only  to  be  found  where  youth  —  bright,  joyous,  and  elastic 
youth  —  unites  itself  to  beauty. 

Such  were  my  thoughts  as  the  dancers  flew  past,  —  and 
many  whom  I  had  remarked  at  the  beginning  of  the  even- 
ing as  handsome  and  attractive  seemed  now  without  a  trace 
of  either,  —  when  suddenly  Louisa  Bellew  came  by,  her  step 
as  light,  her  every  gesture  as  graceful,  her  cheek  as  bloom- 
ing, and  her  liquid  eye  as  deeply  beaming  as  when  first  I 
saw  her.     The  excitement  of  the  dance  had  slightly  flushed 


104  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

her  face,  and  heightened  the  expression  its  ever-varying 
emotions  lent  it. 

Handsome  as  I  before  had  thought  her,  there  was  a  look 
of  pride  about  her  now  that  made  her  lovely  to  my  eyes. 
As  I  continued  to  gaze  after  her,  I  did  not  perceive  for 
some  time  that  the  guests  were  rapidly  taking  their  leave, 
and  already  the  rooms  were  greatly  thinned.  Every  mo- 
ment now,  however,  bore  evidence  of  the  fact;  the  un- 
ceasing roll  of  carriages  to  the  door,  the  clank  of  the  steps, 
the  reiterated  cry  to  drive  on,  followed  by  the  call  for  the 
next  carriage,  —  all  betokened  departure.  Now  and  then, 
too,  some  cloaked  and  hooded  figure  would  appear  at  the 
door  of  the  drawing-room,  peering  anxiously  about  for  a 
daughter,  a  sister,  or  a  friend  who  still  lingered  in  the 
dance,  averring  it  "was  impossible  to  go,  that  she  was 
engaged  for  another  set."  The  disconsolate  gestures,  the 
impatient  menaces  of  the  shawled  spectres  —  for,  in  truth, 
they  seemed  like  creatures  of  another  world  come  back  to 
look  upon  the  life  they  left  —  are  of  no  avail ;  the  seduc- 
tions of  the  "major"  are  stronger  than  the  frowns  of 
mamma,  and  though  a  rowing  may  come  in  the  morning, 
she  is  resolved  to  have  a  reel  at  night. 

An  increased  noise  and  tumult  below  stairs  at  the  same 
moment  informed  me  that  the  supper-party  was  at  length 
about  to  separate.  I  started  up  at  once,  wishing  to  see  Miss 
Bellew  again  ere  I  took  my  leave,  when  O'Grady  seized  me 
by  the  arm  and  hurried  me  away. 

"  Come  along,  Hinton !  Not  a  moment  to  lose ;  the  duke 
is  going." 

"  Wait  an  instant,"  said  I ;  "  I  wish  to  speak  to  —  " 

"Another  time,  my  dear  fellow;  another  time.  The 
duke  is  delighted  with  the  Kooneys,  and  we  are  going  to 
have  Paul  knighted  ! " 

With  these  words  he  dragged  me  along,  dashing  down 
the  stairs  like  a  madman.  As  we  reached  the  door  of  the 
dining-room  we  found  his  Grace,  who,  with  one  hand  on 
Lord  Dudley's  shoulder,  was  endeavoring  to  steady  himself 
by  the  other. 


A   FINALE   TO   AN   EVENING. 


105 


"  I  say,  O'Grady,  is  that  you  ?     Very  powerful  burgundy 

this  —     It 's  not  possible  it  can  be  morning  !  " 
"  Yes,  your  Grace,  half-past  seven  o'clock." 
"  Indeed,  u'pon  my  word,  your  friends  are  very  charming 

people.     What   did   you  say  about  knighting  some  one  ? 

Oh,   I  remember,  —  Mr.  Rooney,   was  n't  it  ?     Of  course, 

nothing  could  be  better !  " 


■--*%r-4 


"  Come,  Hinton,  have  you  got  a  sword  ?  "  said  O'Grady, 
"  I  've  mislaid  mine  somehow.  There,  that  '11  do.  Let  us 
try  and  find  Paul  now." 

Into  the  supper-room  we  rushed :  but  what  a  change  was 
there !  The  brilliant  tables,  resplendent  with  gold  plate, 
candelabras,  and  flowers,  were  now  despoiled  and  disman- 
tled. On  the  floor,  among  broken  glasses,  cracked  decan- 
ters, pyramids  of  jelly,  and  pagodas  of  blanc-mange,  lay 
scattered  in  every  attitude  the  sleeping  figures  of  the  late 
guests.     Mrs.  Rooney  alone  maintained  her  position,  seated 


106  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

in  a  large  chair,  her  eyes  closed,  a  smile  of  Elysian  happi- 
ness playing  upon  her  lips.  Her  right  arm  hung  gracefully 
over  the  side  of  the  chair,  where  lately  his  Grace  had  kissed 
her  hand  at  parting.  Overcome,  in  all  probability,  by  the 
more  than  human  happiness  of  such  a  moment,  she  had 
sunk  into  slumber,  and  was  murmuring  in  her  dreams  such 
short  and  broken  phrases  as  the  following:  "Ah,  happy 
day !  —  What  will  Mrs.  Tait  say  ?  —  The  lord  mayor,  in- 
deed !  —  Oh,  my  poor  head  !  I  hope  it  won't  be  turned.  — 
Holy  Agatha,  pray  for  us !  your  Grace,  pray  for  us !  — 
Is  n't  he  a  beautiful  man  ?  Has  n't  he  the  darling  white 
teeth  ?  " 

"Where's  Paul?"  said  O'Grady;  " where 's  Paul,  Mrs. 
Rooney  ?  "  as  he  jogged  her  rather  rudely  by  the  arm. 

"  Ah,  who  cares  for  Paul  ? "  said  she,  still  sleeping ; 
"don't  be  bothering  me  about  the  like  of  him." 

"Egad!  this  is  conjugal,  at  any  rate,"  said  Phil. 

"  I  have  him  ! "  cried  I :  "  here  he  is  ! "  as  I  stumbled 
over  a  short  thick  figure,  who  was  propped  up  in  a  corner 
of  the  room.  There  he  sat,  his  head  sunk  upon  his  bosom, 
his  hands  listlessly  resting  on  the  floor.  A  large  jug  stood 
beside  him,  in  the  concoction  of  whose  contents  he  appeared 
to  have  spent  the  last  moments  of  his  waking  state.  We 
shook  him,  and  called  him  by  his  name,  but  to  no  purpose ; 
and  as  we  lifted  up  his  head  we  burst  out  a-laughing  at  the 
droll  expression  of  his  face ;  for  he  had  fallen  asleep  in  the 
act  of  squeezing  a  lemon  in  his  teeth,  the  half  of  which  not 
only  remained  there  still,  but  imparted  to  his  features  the 
twisted  and  contorted  expression  that  act  suggests. 

"  Are  you  coming,  O'Grady  ? "  now  cried  the  duke, 
impatiently. 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  cried  Phil,  as  he  rushed  towards  the 
door.  "  This  is  too  bad,  Hinton :  that  confounded  fellow 
could  not  possibly  be  moved.  I  '11  try  and  carry  him."  As 
he  spoke,  he  hurried  back  towards  the  sleeping  figure  of 
Mr.  Rooney,  while  I  made  towards  the  duke. 

As  Lord  Dudley  had  gone  to  order  up  the  carriages,  his 
Grace  was  standing  alone  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  leaning 


. 


A  FINALE   TO   AN  EVENING.  107 

his  back  against  the  banisters,  his  eyes  opening  and  shut- 
ting alternately  as  his  head  nodded  every  now  and  then 
forward,  overcome  by  sleep  and  the  wine  he  had  drunk. 
Exactly  in' front  of  him,  but  crouching  in  the  attitude  of  an 
Indian  monster,  sat  Corny  Delany.  To  keep  himself  from 
the  cold,  he  had  wrapped  himself  up  in  his  master's  cloak, 
and  the  only  part  of  his  face  perceptible  was  the  little 
wrinkled  forehead  and  the  malicious-looking  fiery  eyes 
beneath  it,  firmly  fixed  on  the  duke's  countenance. 

"Give  me  your  sword,"  said  his  Grace,  turning  to  me,  in 
a  tone  half  sleeping,  half  commanding ;  "  give  me  your 
sword,  sir ! " 

Drawing  it  from  the  scabbard,  I  presented  it  respectfully. 

"  Stand  a  little  on  one  side,  Hinton.  Where  is  he  ?  Ah, 
quite  right.  Kneel  down,  sir !  kneel  down,  I  say ! " 
These  words,  addressed  to  Corny,  produced  no  other  move- 
ment in  him  than  a  slight  change  in  his  attitude,  to  enable 
him  to  extend  his  expanded  hand  above  his  eyes,  and  take 
a  clearer  view  of  the  duke. 

"  Does  he  hear  me,  Hinton  ?  —  Do  you  hear  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Do  you  hear  his  Grace  ?  "  said  I,  endeavoring  with  a 
sharp  kick  of  my  foot  to  assist  his  perceptions. 

"  To  be  sure  I  hear  him,"  said  Corny  ;  "  why  would  n't  I 
hear  him  ?  " 

"  Kneel  down,  then,"  said  I. 

"  Devil  a  bit  of  me  '11  kneel  down.  Don't  I  know  what 
he 's  after,  well  enough  ?  Ach  ma  bocklish  !  Sorrow  else 
he  ever  does  nor  make  fun  of  people." 

"  Kneel  down,  sir  ! "  said  his  Grace,  in  an  accent  there 
was  no  refusing  to  obey.     "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"Oh,  murther!  Oh,  heavenly  Joseph!"  cried  Corny,  as 
I  hurled  him  down  upon  his  knees,  "  that  I  'd  ever  live  to 
see  the  day  ! " 

••  What  is  his  d — d  name  ?  "  said  the  duke,  passionately. 

"  Corny,  your  Grace,  —  Corny  Delany." 

"  There,  that  '11  do,"  as  with  a  hearty  slap  of  the  sword, 
not  on  his  shoulder,  but  on  his  bullet  head,  he  cried  out, 
"  Rise,  Sir  Corny  Delany ! " 


108  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"Och,  the  devil  a  oue  of  me  will  ever  get  up  out  of 
this  same  spot.  0  wirra,  wirra !  how  will  I  ever  show 
myself  agaiu  after  this  disgrace  ?  " 

Leaving  Corny  to  his  lamentations,  the  duke  walked 
towards  the  door.  Here  above  a  hundred  people  were  now 
assembled,  their  curiosity  excited  in  no  small  degree  by  a 
picket  of  light  dragoons,  who  occupied  the  middle  of  the 
street,  and  were  lying  upon  the  ground,  or  leaning  on  their 
saddles,  in  all  the  wearied  attitudes  of  a  night-watch.  In 
fact,  the  duke  had  forgotten  to  dismiss  his  guard  of  honor, 
who  had  accompanied  him  to  the  theatre,  and  thus  had 
spent  the  dark  hours  of  the  night  keeping  watch  and  ward 
over  the  proud  dwelling  of  the  Rooneys.  A  dark  frown 
settled  on  the  duke's  features  as  he  perceived  the  mistake, 
and  he  muttered  between  his  teeth,  "  How  they  will  talk 
of  this  in  England ! "  The  next  moment,  bursting  into  a 
hearty  fit  of  laughter,  he  stepped  into  the  carriage,  and 
amid  a  loud  cheer  from  the  mob,  by  whom  he  was  recog- 
nized, drove  rapidly  away. 

Seated  beside  his  Grace,  I  saw  nothing  more  of  O'Grady, 
whose  efforts  to  ennoble  the  worthy  attorney  only  exposed 
him  to  the  risk  of  a  black  eye;  for  no  sooner  did  Paul 
perceive  that  he  was  undergoing  rough  treatment  than  he 
immediately  resisted,  and  gave  open  battle. 

O'Grady  accordingly  left  him,  to  seek  his  home  on  foot, 
followed  by  Corny,  whose  cries  and  heart-rending  exclama- 
tions induced  a  considerable  crowd  of  well-disposed  citizens 
to  accompany  them  to  the  Castle  gate.  And  thus  ended 
the  great  Rooney  ball. 


CHAPTER  XL 


A     NEGOTIATION. 


From  what  I  have  already  stated,  it  may  be  inferred 
that  my  acquaintance  with  the  Rooneys  was  begun  under 
favorable  auspices.  Indeed,  from  the  evening  of  the  ball 
the  house  was  open  to  me  at  all  hours ;  and  as  the  hour  of 
luncheon  was  known  to  every  lounger  about  town,  by  drop- 
ping in  about  three  o'clock  one  was  sure  to  hear  all  the  chit- 
chat and  gossip  of  the  day.  All  the  dinners  and  duels  of 
the  capital,  all  its  rows  and  runaway  matches,  were  there 
discussed,  while  future  parties  of  pleasure  were  planned 
and  decided  on,  —  the  Rooney  equipages,  horses,  servants, 
and  cellar  being  looked  upon  as  common  property,  the 
appropriation  of  which  was  to  be  determined  on  by  a  vote 
of  the  majority. 

At  all  these  domestic  parliaments  O'Grady  played  a 
prominent  part.  He  was  the  speaker  and  the  whipper-in ; 
he  led  for  both  the  government  and  the  opposition  ;  in  fact, 
since  the  ever-memorable  visit  of  the  viceroy  his  power  in 
the  house  was  absolute.  How  completely  they  obeyed,  and 
how  implicitly  they  followed  him,  may  be  guessed,  when  I 
say  that  he  even  persuaded  Mrs.  Rooney  herself  not  only 
to  abstain  from  all  triumph  on  the  subject  of  their  illustri- 
ous guest,  but  actually  to  maintain  a  kind  of  diplomatic 
silence  on  the  subject ;  so  that  many  simple-minded  people 
began  to  suspect  his  Grace  had  never  been  there  at  all,  and 
that  poor  Mrs.  Rocney,  having  detected  the  imposition, 
prudently  held  her  tongue,  and  said  nothing  about  the 
matter.  As  this  influence  might  strike  my  reader  as  some- 
what difficult  in  its  exercise,  and  also  as  it  presents  a  fair 


110  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

specimen  of  ray  friend's  ingenuity,  I  cannot  forbear  men- 
tioning the  secret  of  its  success. 

When  the  duke  awoke  late  in  the  afternoon  that  followed 
Mrs.  Eooney's  ball,  his  first  impression  was  one  bordering 
on  irritation  with  0' Grady.  His  quick-sightedness  enabled 
him  at  once  to  see  how  completely  he  had  fallen  into  the 
trap  of  his  worthy  aide-de-camp ;  and  although  he  had  con- 
fessedly spent  a  very  pleasant  evening,  and  laughed  a  great 
deal,  now  that  all  was  over  he  would  have  preferred  if  the 
whole  affair  could  be  quietly  consigned  to  oblivion,  or  only 
remembered  as  a  good  joke  for  after  dinner.  The  scandal 
and  the  eclat  it  must  cause  in  the  capital  annoyed  him  con- 
siderably; and  he  knew  that  before  a  day  passed  over,  the 
incident  of  the  guard  of  honor  lying  in  bivouac  around  their 
horses  would  furnish  matter  for  every  caricature-shop  in 
Dublin.  Ordering  O'Grady  to  his  presence,  and  with  a 
severity  of  manner  in  a  great  degree  assumed,  he  directed 
him  to  remedy,  as  far  as  might  be,  the  consequences  of  this 
blunder,  and  either  contrive  to  give  a  totally  different  ver- 
sion of  the  occurrence,  or  else  by  originating  some  new 
subject  of  scandal  to  eclipse  the  memory  of  this  unfor- 
tunate evening. 

O'Grady  promised  and  pledged  himself  to  everything; 
vowed  that  he  would  give  such  a  turn  to  the  affair  that  no- 
body would  ever  believe  a  word  of  the  story  ;  assured  the 
duke  —  God  forgive  him  !  —  that  however  ridiculous  the 
Rooneys  at  night,  by  day  they  were  models  of  discretion  ; 
and  at  length  took  his  leave  to  put  his  scheme  into  execu- 
tion, heartily  glad  to  discover  that  his  Grace  had  forgotten 
all  about  Corny  and  the  knighthood,  the  recollection  of 
which  might  have  been  attended  with  very  grave  results 
to  himself. 

So  much  for  his  interview  with  the  duke.  Now  for  his 
diplomacy  with  Mrs.  Rooney ! 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  on  the  following  day  when 
O'Grady  cantered  up  to  the  door.  Giving  his  horse  to  his 
groom,  he  dashed  boldly  upstairs,  passed  through  the  ante- 
chamber and  the  drawing-room,  and,  tapping  gently  at  the 


A   NEGOTIATION.  Ill 

door  of  a  little  boudoir,  opened  it  at  the  same  moment  and 
presented  himself  before  Mrs.  Paul. 

That  amiable  lady,  reclining  a  la  Princess  O'Toole,  was 
gracefully  disposed  on  a  small  sofa,  regarding  with  fixed 
attention  a  little  plaster  bust  of  his  Grace,  which,  with  con- 
siderable taste  and  propriety,  was  dressed  in  a  blue  coat 
and  bright  buttons,  with  a  star  on  the  breast,  a  bit  of  sky- 
blue  satin  representing  the  ribbon  of  the  bath.  Nothing 
was  forgotten ;  and  a  faint  attempt  was  even  made  to 
represent  the  coloring  of  the  vice-regal  nose,  which  I  am 
bound  to  confess  was  not  flattered  in  the  model. 

"  Ah,  Captain,  is  it  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Paul,  with  a  kind 
of  languishing  condescension  very  different  from  her  ordi- 
nary reception  of  a  Castle  aide-de-camp.  "  How  is  his  Grace 
this  evening  ?  " 

Drawing  his  chair  beside  her,  Phil  proceeded  to  reply  to 
her  questions,  and  assure  her  that  whatever  her  admiration 
for  the  duke,  the  feeling  was  perfectly  mutual.  "  Egad," 
said  he,  "  the  thing  may  turn  out  very  ill  for  me  when  the 
duchess  finds  out  that  it  was  all  my  doing.  Speaking  in 
confidence  to  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Paul,  I  may  confess  that 
although  without  exception  she  is  the  most  kind,  amiable, 
excellent  soul  breathing,  yet  she  has  one  fault —  We  all 
have  our  faults." 

"  Ah ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Rooney,  as  she  threw  down  her 
eyes  as  though  to  say,  "  That 's  very  true,  but  you  will  not 
catch  me  telling  what  mine  is." 

"  As  I  was  observing,  there  never  was  a  more  estimable 
being,  save  in  this  one  respect  —  You  guess  it  ?  I  see 
you  do." 

"  Ah,  the  creature,  she  drinks  !  " 

The  captain  found  it  not  a  little  difficult  to  repress  a 
burst  of  laughter  at  Mrs.  Rooney's  suggestion.  He  did  so, 
however,  and  proceeded :  "  No,  my  dear  madam,  you  mis- 
take. Jealousy  is  her  failing ;  and  when  I  tell  you  this, 
and  when  I  add  that  unhappily  for  her  the  events  of  last 
night  may  only  afford  but  too  much  cause,  you  will  compre* 
hend  the  embarrassment  of  my  present  position." 


112  JACK  HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Having  said  thus  much,  he  walked  the  room  for  several 
minutes  as  if  sunk  in  meditation,  while  he  left  Mrs.  Rooney 
to  ruminate  over  an  announcement  the  bare  possibility  of 
which  was  ecstasy  itself.  To  be  the  rival  of  a  peeress,  — 
that  peeress  a  duchess ;  that  duchess  the  lady  of  the  vice- 
roy !  These  were  high  thoughts  indeed.  What  would 
Mrs.  Riley  say  now  ?  How  would  the  Maloneys  look  ? 
Would  n't  Father  Glynn  be  proud  to  meet  her  at  the  door 
of  Liffey-street  Chapel  in  full  pontificals  as  she  drove  up, 
who  knows  but  with  a  guard  of  honor  beside  her  ?  Run- 
ning on  in  this  way,  she  had  actually  got  so  far  as  to  be  dis- 
cussing with  herself  what  was  to  be  done  with  Paul,  —  not 
that  her  allegiance  was  shaken  towards  that  excellent  in- 
dividual ;  not  a  single  unworthy  thought  crossed  her  mind, 
—  far  from  it.  Poor  Mrs.  Rooney  was  purity  herself;  she 
merely  dreamed  of  those  outward  manifestations  of  the 
viceroy's  preference,  which  were  to  procure  for  her  con- 
sideration in  the  world,  a  position  in  society,  and  those  at- 
tentions from  the  hands  of  the  great  and  the  titled  which 
she  esteemed  at  higher  price  than  the  real  gifts  of  health, 
wealth,  and  beauty,  so  bounteously  bestowed  upon  her  by 
Providence. 

She  had  come  then  to  that  difficult  point  in  her  mind  as 
to  what  was  to  be  done  with  Paul.  What  peculiar  course 
of  training  could  he  be  submitted  to,  to  make  him  more 
presentable  in  the  world  ;  how  were  they  to  break  him  of 
whiskey-and-water  and  small  jokes  ?  "Ah,"  she  was  think- 
ing, "  it 's  very  hard  to  make  a  real  gentleman  out  of  such 
materials  as  grog  and  drab  gaiters,"  when  suddenly  O'Grady 
wiping  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief,  and  then  flourish- 
ing it  theatrically  in  the  air,  exclaimed,  — 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Rooney,  everything  depends  on  you.  His 
Grace's  visit  —  I  have  just  been  with  him  talking  the  whole 
thing  over  — ■  must  be  kept  a  profound  secret.  If  it  ever 
reach  the  ears  of  the  duchess  we  are  ruined  and  undone." 

Here  was  a  total  overthrow  to  all  Mrs.  Paul's  specula- 
tions; here  was  a  beautiful  castle  uprooted  from  its  very 
foundation!     All  her  triumph,  all  her  vaunted  superiority 


A    NEGOTIATION.  113 

over  her  city  acquaintance,  was  vanishing  like  a  mirage 
before  her !  What  was  the  use  of  his  coming,  after  all  ? 
What  was  the  good  of  it,  if  not  to  be  spoken  of,  if  not 
talked  over  at  tea,  written  of  in  notes,  discussed  at  dinner, 
and  displayed  in  the  morning  papers  ?  Already  was  her 
brow  contracted,  and  a  slight  flush  of  her  cheek  showed  the 
wily  captain  that  resistance  was  in  preparation. 

"  I  know,  my  dear  Mrs.  Paul,  how  gratifying  it  would  be 
for  even  the  highest  of  the  land  to  speak  of  his  Grace's  con- 
descension in  such  terms  as  you  might  speak ;  but  then, 
after  all,  how  very  fleeting  such  a  triumph !  Many  would 
shrug  their  shoulders,  and  not  believe  the  story.  Some  of 
those  who  believed  would  endeavor  to  account  for  it  as  a 
joke,  one  of  those  odd  wild  fancies  the  duke  is  ever  so  fond 
of,"  —  here  she  reddened  deeply.  "  In  fact,  the  malevolence 
and  the  envy  of  the  world  will  give  a  thousand  turns  to  the 
circumstance.  Besides  that,  after  all,  they  would  seem  to 
have  some  reason  on  their  side ;  for  the  publicity  of  the 
affair  must  forever  prevent  a  repetition  of  the  visit :  whereas, 
on  the  other  side,  by  a  little  discretion,  by  guarding  our  own 
secret,"  —  here  Phil  looked  knowingly  in  her  eyes,  as  though 
to  say  they  had  one,  —  "  not  only  will  the  duke  be  delighted 
to  continue  his  intimacy,  but  from  the  absence  of  all  men- 
tion of  the  matter,  all  display  on  the  subject,  the  world  will 
be  ten  times  more  disposed  to  give  credence  to  the  fact  than 
if  it  were  paragraphed  in  every  newspaper  in  the  kingdom." 

This  was  hitting  the  nail  on  the  head  with  a  vengeance. 
Here  was  a  picture,  here  a  vision  of  happiness !  Only  to 
think  of  the  duke  dropping  in,  as  a  body  might  say,  to  take 
his  bit  of  dinner,  or  his  dish  of  tea  in  the  evening,  just  in  a 
quiet,  homely,  family  way !  She  thought  she  saw  him  sit- 
ting with  his  feet  on  the  fender,  talking  about  the  king  and 
the  queen,  and  the  rest  of  the  royal  family,  just  as  he  would 
of  herself  and  Paul  ;  and  her  eyes  involuntarily  turned 
towards  the  little  bust,  and  two  round  full  tears  of  pure 
joy  trickled  slowly  down  her  cheeks. 

Yielding,  at  length,  to  these  and  similiar  arguments.  Mrs. 
Kooney  gave  in  her  adhesion  ;  and  a  treaty  was  arranged 

VOL  I.  —  8 


114  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

and  agreed  upon  between  the  high  contracting  parties,  which 
ran  somewhat  to  this  effect :  — 

In  the  first  place,  for  the  enjoyment  of  certain  advantages 
to  be  hereafter  more  fully  set  forth,  the  lady  was  bound  to 
maintain  in  all  large  companies,  balls,  dinners,  drums,  and 
dejeuners,  a  rigid  silence  regarding  the  duke's  visit  to  her 
house,  never  speaking  of  nor  alluding  to  it  in  any  manner 
whatever,  and  in  fact  conducting  herself  in  all  respects  as 
if  such  a  thing  had  never  taken  place. 

Secondly,  she  was  forbidden  from  making  any  direct  in- 
quiries in  public  respecting  the  health  of  the  duke  or  the 
duchess,  or  exercising  any  overt  act  of  personal  interest  in 
these  exalted  individuals. 

Thirdly,  so  long  as  Mrs.  Eooney  strictly  maintained  the 
terms  of  the  covenant,  nothing  in  the  foregoing  was  to  pre- 
clude her  from  certain  other  privileges  —  namely,  blushing 
deeply  when  the  duke's  name  was  mentioned,  throwing  down 
her  eyes,  gently  clasping  her  hands,  and  even  occasionally 
proceeding  to  a  sigh.  Neither  was  she  interdicted  from  re- 
garding any  portion  of  her  domicile  as  particularly  sacred 
in  consequence  of  its  viceregal  associations.  A  certain  arm- 
chair might  be  selected  for  peculiar  honors,  and  preserved 
inviolate,  etc. 

And  lastly,  nevertheless,  notwithstanding  that  in  all  large 
assemblies  Mrs.  Rooney  was  to  conduct  herself  with  the 
reserve  and  restrictions  aforesaid,  yet  in  small  reunions  de 
famille,  —  this  O'Grady  purposely  inserted  in  French,  for 
as  Mrs.  Paul  could  not  confess  her  ignorance  of  that  lan- 
guage, the  interpretation  must  rest  with  himself,  —  she  was 
to  enjoy  a  perfect  liberty  of  detailing  his  Grace's  advent, 
entering  into  all  its  details,  discussing,  explaining,  expatiat- 
ing, inquiring  with  a  most  minute  particularity  concerning 
his  health  and  habits,  and,  in  a  word,  conducting  herself  in 
all  respects,  to  use  her  own  expressive  phrase,  "  as  if  they 
were  thick  since  they  were  babies." 

Armed  with  this  precious  document,  formally  signed  and 
sealed  by  both  parties,  O'Grady  took  his  leave  of  Mrs. 
Rooney,  —  not,  indeed,  in  his  usual  free-and-easy  manner, 


A  NEGOTIATION.  115 

but  with  the  respectful  and  decorous  reserve  of  one  address- 
ing a  favorite  near  the  throne.  Nothing  could  be  more 
perfect  than  Phil's  profound  obeisance,  except  perhaps 
the  queenly  demeanor  of  Mrs.  Rooney  herself ;  for  with 
the  ready  tact  of  a  woman  she  caught  up  in  a  moment  the 
altered  phase  of  her  position,  and  in  the  reflective  light 
of  O'Grady's  manner  she  learned  to  appreciate  her  own 
brilliancy. 

"From  this  day  forward,"  muttered  O'Grady,  as  he 
closed  the  door  behind  him  and  hurried  downstairs,  — 
"  from  this  day  forward  she  '11  be  greater  than  ever. 
Heaven  help  the  lady  mayoress  that  ventures  to  shake 
hands  with  her ;  and  the  attorney's  wife  will  be  a  bold 
woman  that  asks  her  to  a  tea-party  henceforth ! " 

"With  these  words  he  threw  himself  upon  his  horse  and 
cantered  off  towards  the  park  to  inform  the  duke  that  all 
was  happily  concluded,  and  amuse  him  with  a  sight  of  the 
great  Rooney  treaty,  which  he  well  knew  would  throw  the 
viceroy  into  convulsions  of  laughter. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A    WAGER. 

In  a  few  weeks  after  the  events  I  have  mentioned,  the 
duke  left  Ireland  to  resume  his  parliamentary  duties  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  where  some  measure  of  considerable  impor- 
tance was  at  that  time  under  discussion.  Into  the  hands 
of  the  lords  justices,  therefore,  the  government  ad  interim 
was  delivered  ;  while  upon  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney  devolved  the 
more  pleasing  task  of  becoming  the  leader  of  fashion,  the 
head  and  fountain  of  all  the  gayeties  and  amusements  of 
the  capital.  Indeed,  O'Grady  half  hinted  that  his  Grace 
relied  upon  her  to  supply  his  loss,  —  which  manifestation  of 
his  esteem,  so  perfectly  in  accordance  with  her  own  wishes, 
she  did  not  long  hesitate  to  profit  by. 

Had  a  stranger,  on  his  first  arrival  in  Dublin,  passed 
along  that  part  of  Stephen's  Green  in  which  the  "Hotel 
Rooney,"  as  it  was  familiarly  called,  was  situated,  he  could 
not  have  avoided  being  struck,  not  only  with  the  appear- 
ance of  the  house  itself,  but  with  that  of  the  strange  and 
incongruous  assembly  of  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  men 
that  lounged  about  its  door.  The  house,  large  and  spa- 
cious, with  its  windows  of  plate-glass,  its  Venetian  blinds, 
its  gaudily  gilt  and  painted  balcony,  and  its  massive  brass 
knocker,  betrayed  a  certain  air  of  pretension,  standing  as  it 
did  among  the  more  sombre-looking  mansions  where  the 
real  rank  of  the  country  resided.  Clean  windows  and  a 
bright  knocker,  however,  distinctive  features  as  they  were 
in  the  metropolis  of  those  days,  would  not  have  arrested 
the  attention  of  the  passing  traveller  to  the  extent  I  have 
supposed,  but  that  there  were  other  signs  and  sights  than 
these. 


A   WAGER.  11 T 

At  the  open  hall-door,  to  which  you  ascended  by  a  flight 
of  granite  steps,  lounged  some  half-dozen  servants  in  pow- 
dered heads  and  gaudy  liveries  ;  the  venerable  porter  in  his 
leather  chair,  the  ruddy  coachman  in  his  full-bottomed  wig, 
tall  footmen  with  bouquets  in  their  button-holes,  were  here 
to  be  seen  reading  the  morning  papers,  or  leisurely  strolling 
to  the  steps  to  take  a  look  at  the  weather  and  cast  a  super- 
cilious glance  at  the  insignificant  tide  of  population  that 
flowed  on  beneath  them  :  a  lazy  and  an  idle  race,  they 
toiled  not,  neither  did  they  spin,  and  I  sincerely  trust  that 
Solomon's  costume  bore  no  resemblance  to  theirs. 

More  immediately  in  front  of  the  house  stood  a  mixed 
society  of  idlers,  beggars,  horseboys,  and  grooms,  assembled 
there  from  motives  of  curiosity  or  gain.  Indeed,  the  rich 
odor  of  savory  viands  that  issued  from  the  open  kitchen- 
windows  and  ascended  through  the  area  to  the  nostrils  of 
those  without,  might  in  its  appetizing  steam  have  brought 
the  dew  upon  the  lips  of  greater  gourmands  than  they 
were.  All  that  French  cookery  could  suggest  to  impart 
variety  to  the  separate  meals  of  breakfast,  luncheon,  dinner, 
and  supper  here  went  forward  unceasingly ;  and  the  beg- 
gars who  thronged  around  the  bars,  and  were  fed  with  the 
crumbs  from  the  rich  man's  table,  became  by  degrees  so 
habituated  to  the  delicacies  and  refinements  of  good  living 
that  they  would  have  turned  up  their  noses  with  contempt 
at  the  humble  and  more  homely  fare  of  the  respectable 
shopkeeper.  Truly,  it  was  a  strange  picture  to  see  these 
poor  and  ragged  men,  as  they  sat  in  groups  upon  the  steps 
and  on  the  bare  flagway,  exposed  to  every  wind  of  heaven, 
the  drifting  rain  soaking  through  their  frail  and  threadbare 
garments,  yet  criticising,  with  practised  acumen,  the  savory 
food  before  them.  Consommes,  ragouts,  pates,  potages, 
jellies,  with  an  infinity  of  that  smaller  grape-shot  of  epi- 
curism with  which  fine  tables  are  filled,  —  all  here  met  a 
fair  and  a  candid  appreciation. 

A  little  farther  off,  and  towards  the  middle  of  the  street, 
stood  another  order  of  beings,  who,  with  separate  and 
peculiar  privileges  maintained  themselves  as  a  class  apart. 


OF    TH 

UNIVER 

CF 

UFO 


118 


JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


These  were  the  horse-boys,  half-naked  urchins,  whose  ages 
varied  from  eight  to  fourteen,  but  whose  looks  of  mingled 
cunning  and  drollery  would  defy  any  guess  as  to  their  time 
of  life,  who  here  sported  in  all  the  wild,  untrammelled 
liberty  of  African  savages.  The  only  art  they  practised 
was  to  lead  up  and  down  the  horses  of  the  various  visitors 


••si1    K      "b, 

it  a;    |     f    ■'.,<.   y 


whom  the  many  attractions  of  the  Hotel  Rooney  brought 
daily  to  the  house.  And  here  you  saw  the  proud  and  pam- 
pered steed,  with  fiery  eye  and  swelling  nostrils,  led  about 
by  this  ambulating  mass  of  rags  and  poverty,  whose  bright 
eye  wandered  ever  from  his  own  tattered  habiliments  to 
the  gorgeous  trappings  and  gold  embroidery  of  the  sleek 
charger  beside  him.  In  the  midst  of  these,  such  as  were 
not  yet  employed  amused  themselves  by  cutting  summer- 
sets, standing  on  their  heads,  walking  crab-fashion,  and  by 
other  classical  performances,  which  form  the  little  distrac- 
tions of  life  for  this  strange  sect. 

Jaunting-cars  there  were  too,  whose  numerous  fastenings 
of  rope  and  cordage  looked  as  though  they  were  taken  to 


A   WAGER.  119 

pieces  every  night  and  put  together  in  the  morning ;  while 
the  horse,  a  care-worn  and  misanthropic-looking  beast, 
would  turn  his  head  sideways  over  the  shaft  to  give  a 
glance  of  compassionating  scorn  at  the  follies  and  vanities 
of  a  world  he  was  sick  of.  Not  so  the  driver.  Equally  low 
in  condition,  and  fully  as  ragged  in  coat,  the  droll  spirit 
that  made  his  birthright  was  with  him  a  lamp  that  neither 
poverty  nor  penury  could  quench.  Ever  ready  with  his 
joke,  never  backward  with  his  repartee,  prepared  to  com- 
fort you  by  assurances  of  the  strength  of  his  car  and  the 
goodness  of  his  horse,  while  his  own  laughing  look  gave 
the  lie  to  his  very  words,  he  would  persuade  you  that  with 
him  alone  there  was  safety,  while  it  was  a  risk  of  life  and 
limb  to  travel  with  his  rivals. 

These  formed  the  ordinary  dramatis  persona?,  while  every 
now  and  then  some  flashy  equipage,  with  armorial  bearings 
and  showy  liveries,  would  scatter  the  crowd  right  and  left, 
set  the  led  horses  lashing  among  the  by-standers,  and  even 
break  up  the  decorous  conviviality  of  a  dinner-party  grace- 
fully disposed  upon  the  flags.  Curricles,  tandems,  tilburies, 
and  dennets  were  constantly  arriving  and  departing.  Mem- 
bers of  Daly's  with  their  green  coats  and  buff  waistcoats, 
whiskered  dragoons  and  plumed  aides-de-camp,  were  all 
mixed  up  together,  while  on  the  open  balcony  an  indiscri- 
minate herd  of  loungers  telegraphed  the  conversation  from 
the  drawing-room  to  the  street ;  and  thus  all  the  bons  mots, 
all  the  jests,  all  the  witticisms  that  went  forward  within 
doors  found  also  a  laughing  auditory  without,  —  for  it  is  a 
remarkable  feature  of  this  singular  country  that  there  is  no 
turn  of  expression  whose  raillery  is  too  delicate,  no  repartee 
whose  keenness  is  too  fine,  for  the  appreciation  of  the  poor- 
est and  meanest  creature  that  walks  the  street.  Poor 
Paddy !  if  the  more  substantial  favors  of  fortune  be  not 
your  lot,  Nature  has  linked  you  by  a  strong  sympathy  with 
tastes,  habits,  and  usages  which,  by  some  singular  intuition, 
you  seem  throughly  to  comprehend.  One  cannot  dwell 
long  among  them  without  feeling  this,  and  witnessing  how 
generally,  how  almost  universally,  poverty  of  condition  and 


120  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

wealth  of  intellect  go  hand  in  hand  together ;  and  as  it  is 
only  over  the  bleak  and  barren  surface  of  some  fern-clad 
heath  the  wild  fire  flashes  through  the  gloom  of  night,  so  it 
would  seem  the  more  brilliant  fire-work  of  fancy  would 
need  a  soil  of  poverty  and  privation  to  produce  it. 

But,  at  length,  to  come  back,  the  Rooneys  now  were  in- 
stalled as  the  great  people  of  the  capital.  Many  of  the 
ancien  regime,  who  held  out  sturdily  before,  and  who  looked 
upon  the  worthy  attorney  in  the  light  of  a  usurper,  now  gave 
in  their  allegiance,  and  regarded  him  as  the  true  monarch. 
What  his  great  prototype  effected  by  terror,  he  brought 
about  by  turtle ;  and  if  Napoleon  consolidated  his  empire 
and  propped  his  throne  by  the  bayonets  of  the  grand  army, 
so  did  Mr.  Rooney  establish  his  claims  to  power  by  the 
more  satisfactory  arguments  which,  appealing  not  only  to 
the  head  but  to  the  stomach,  convince  while  they  conciliate. 
You  might  criticise  his  courtesy,  but  you  could  not  con- 
demn his  claret;  you  might  dislike  his  manners,  but  you 
could  not  deny  yourself  his  mutton.  Besides,  after  all, 
matters  took  pretty  much  the  same  turn  in  Paris  as  in 
Dublin  ;  public  opinion  ran  strong  in  both  cases.  The 
mass  of  the  world  consists  of  those  who  receive  benefits, 
and  he  who  confers  them  deserves  to  be  respected.  We 
certainly  thought  so ;  and  among  those  of  darker  hue  who 
frequented  Mr.  Rooney's  table,  three  red-coats  might  daily 
be  seen,  whose  unchanged  places,  added  to  their  indescrib- 
able air  of  at-homeishness,  bespoke  them  as  the  friends  of 
the  family. 

O'Grady,  at  Mrs.  Rooney's  right  hand,  did  the  honors  of 
the  soup ;  Lord  Dudley,  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  sup- 
ported Mr.  Rooney  ;  while  to  my  lot  Miss  Bellew  fell.  But 
as  our  places  at  table  never  changed,  there  was  nothing 
marked  in  my  thus  every  day  finding  myself  beside  her, 
and  resuming  my  place  on  our  return  to  the  drawing-room. 
To  me,  I  confess,  she  formed  the  great  attraction  of  the 
house.  Less  imbued  than  my  friend  O'Grady  with  the 
spirit  of  fun,  I  could  not  have  gone  on  from  day  to  day  to 


A   WAGER.  121 

amuse  myself  with  the  eccentricities  of  the  Rooneys ;  while 
I  could  not,  on  the  other  hand,  have  followed  Lord  Dud- 
ley's lead,  and  continued  to  receive  the  hospitalities  of  a 
house  while  I  sneered  at  the  pretensions  of  its  owner. 

Under  any  circumstances  Louisa  Bellew  might  be  con- 
sidered a  very  charming  person;  but  contrasted  with  those 
by  whom  she  was  surrounded,  her  attractions  were  very 
great.  Indeed,  her  youth,  her  light-heartedness,  and  the 
buoyancy  of  her  spirit  concealed  to  a  great  degree  the  sor- 
row it  cost  her  to  be  associated  with  her  present  hosts ;  for 
although  they  were  kind  to  her,  and  she  felt  and  acknowl- 
edged their  kindness,  yet  the  humiliating  sense  of  a  posi- 
tion which  exposed  her  to  the  insolent  familiarity  of  the 
idle,  the  dissipated,  or  the  underbred  visitors  of  the  house, 
gradually  impressed  itself  upon  her  manner,  and  tempered 
her  mild  and  graceful  nature  with  a  certain  air  of  hauteur 
and  distance.  A  circumstance,  slight  in  itself,  but  suffi- 
ciently indicative  of  this,  took  place  some  weeks  after 
what  I  have  mentioned. 

Lord  Dudley  de  Vere,  who  from  his  rank  and  condition 
was  looked  upon  as  a  kind  of  privileged  person  in  the 
Rooney  family,  sitting  rather  later  than  usual  after  dinner, 
and  having  drunk  a  great  deal  of  wine,  offered  a  wager 
that  on  his  appearance  in  the  drawing-room,  not  only 
would  he  propose  for  but  be  accepted  by  any  unmarried 
lady  in  the  room.  The  puppyism  and  coxcombry  of 
such  a  wager  might  have  been  pardoned  were  it  not 
that  the  character  of  the  individual,  when  sober,  was  in 
perfect  accordance  with  this  drunken  boast.  The  bet, 
which  was  for  three  hundred  guineas,  was  at  once  taken 
up ;  and  one  of  the  party  running  hastily  up  to  the 
drawing-room,  obtained  the  names  of  the  ladies  there, 
which,  being  written  on  slips  of  paper,  were  thrown  into  a 
hat,  chus  leaving  chance  to  decide  upon  whom  the  happy 
lot  was  to  fall. 

•'Mark  ye,  Upton,"  cried  Lord  Dudley,  as  he  prepared  to 
draw  forth  his  prize,  —  "  mark  ye,  I  did  n't  say  I  'd  marry 
her." 


122  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  No,  no ! "  resounded  from  different  parts  of  the  room ; 
"we  understand  you  perfectly." 

"  My  bet,"  continued  he,  "  is  this :  I  have  booked  it." 
With  these  words  he  opened  a  small  memorandum  book 
and  read  forth  the  following  paragraph :  "  Three  hundred 
with  Upton  that  I  don't  ask  and  be  accepted  by  any  girl  in 
Paul's  drawing-room  this  evening,  after  tea ;  the  choice  to 
be  decided  by  lottery.     Is  n't  that  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  quite  right,  perfectly  correct,"  said  several  per- 
sons round  the  table.     "  Come,  my  lord,  here  is  the  hat." 

"  Shake  them  up  well,  Upton." 

"  So  here  goes,"  said  Herbert,  as  affectedly  tucking  up 
the  sleeve  of  his  coat  he  inserted  two  fingers,  and  drew 
forth  a  small  piece  of  paper  carefully  folded  in  two.  "I 
say,  gentlemen,  this  is  your  affair ;  it  does  n't  concern  me." 
With  these  words  he  threw  it  carelessly  on  the  table,  and 
resuming  his  seat,  leisurely  filled  his  glass,  and  sipped  his 
wine. 

"  Come,  read  it,  Blake  !  read  it  up !     Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  Gently,  lads,  gently ;  patience  for  one  moment.  How 
are  we  to  know  if  the  wager  be  lost  or  won  ?  Is  the  lady 
herself  to  declare  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  you  like  it ;  it  is  perfectly  the  same  to  me." 

"Well,  then,"  rejoined  Blake,  "it  is  —  Miss  Bellew!" 

No  sooner  was  the  name  read  aloud,  than,  instead  of  the 
roar  of  laughter  which  it  was  expected  would  follow  the 
announcement,  a  kind  of  awkward  and  constrained  silence 
settled  on  the  party.  Mr.  Rooney  himself,  who  felt  shocked 
beyond  measure  at  this  result,  had  been  so  long  habituated 
to  regard  himself  as  nothing  at  the  head  of  his  own  table, 
accepting,  not  dictating,  its  laws,  that,  much  as  he  may 
have  wished  to  do  so,  did  not  dare  to  interfere  to  stay  any 
further  proceedings.  But  many  of  those  around  the  table 
who  knew  Sir  Simon  Bellew,  and  felt  how  unsuitable  and 
inadmissible  such  a  jest  as  this  would  be  if  practised  upon 
his  daughter,  whispered  among  themselves  a  hope  that  the 
wager  would  be  abandoned,  and  never  thought  of  more  by 
either  party. 


A   WAGER.  123 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Upton,  who  was  an  officer  in  a  dragoon 
regiment,  and  although  of  a  high  family  and  well  connected 
was  yet  very  limited  in  his  means,  —  "yes,  yes,  I  quite  agree. 
This  foolery  might  be  very  good  fun  with  some  young  ladies 
we  know,  but  with  Miss  Bellew  the  circumstances  are  quite 
different ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  withdraw  from  the  bet." 

"  Eh  —  aw  !  Pass  down  the  claret,  if  you  please.  You 
withdraw  from  the  bet,  then  ?  That  means  you  pay  me 
three  hundred  guineas  ;  for  d  —  n  me,  if  I  do  !  No,  no ;  I 
am  not  so  young  as  that.  I  have  n't  lost  fifteen  thousand 
on  the  Derby  without  gaining  some  little  insight  into  these 
matters.  Every  bet  is  a, p.  p.,  if  not  stated  to  be  the  reverse. 
I  leave  it  to  any  gentleman  in  the  room." 

"Come,  come,  De  Vere,"  said  one,  "listen  to  reason,  my 
boy ! " 

"Yes,  Dudley,"  cried  another,  "only  think  over  the 
thing.     You  must  see — " 

"  I  only  wish  to  see  a  check  for  three  hundred.  And  I  '11 
not  be  done." 

"  Sir ! "  said  Upton,  springing  from  his  chair,  as  the 
blood  mounted  to  his  face  and  temples,  "did  you  mean 
that  expression  to  apply  to  me  ?  " 

"Sit  down,  'Mr.  Upton,  for  the  love  of  Heaven!  Sit 
down ;  do,  sir !  his  Lordship  never  meant  it  at  all.  See, 
now,  I  '11  pay  the  money  myself.  Give  me  a  pen  and  ink. 
I  '11  give  you  a  check  on  the  bank  this  minute.  What  the 
devil  signifies  a  trifle  like  that ! "  stammered  out  poor  Paul, 
as  he  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  napkin,  and  looked  the 
very  picture  of  terror.  "  Yes,  my  lord  and  gentlemen  of 
the  jury,  we  agree  to  pay  the  whole  costs  of  this  suit." 

A  perfect  roar  of  laughter  interrupted  the  worthy  attor- 
ney, and  as  it  ran  from  one  end  of  the  table  to  the  other 
seemed  to  promise  a  happier  issue  to  this  unpleasant 
discussion. 

"There,  now,"  said  honest  Paul,  "the  Lord  be  praised, 
it  is  all  settled !  So  let  us  have  another  cooper  up,  and 
then  we  '11  join  the  ladies." 

"  Then  I  understand  it  thus,"  said  Lord  Dudley,  —  "  you 


124  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUAEDSMAN. 

pay  the  money  for  Mr.  Upton,  and  I  may  erase  the  bet 
from  my  book  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ! "  cried  Upton,  passionately.  "  I  pay  my  own 
wagers  ;  and  if  you  still  insist  —  " 

"No,  no,  no!"  cried  several  voices;  while  at  the  same 
time,  to  put  an  end  at  once  to  any  further  dispute,  the  party 
suddenly  rose  to  repair  to  the  drawing-room. 

On  passing  through  the  hall,  chance,  or  perhaps  design, 
on  Lord  Dudley's  part  brought  him  beside  Upton.  "  I  wish 
you  to  understand,  once  more,"  said  he,  in  a  low  whisper, 
"  that  I  consider  this  bet  to  hold." 

"  Be  it  so,"  was  the  brief  reply,  and  they  separated. 

O'Grady  and  myself,  having  dined  that  day  in  the  coun- 
try, only  arrived  in  the  Rooney's  drawing-room  as  the  dinner- 
party was  entering  it.  Contrary  to  their  wont,  there  was 
less  of  loud  talking,  less  of  uproarious  and  boisterous  mirth, 
as  they  came  up  the  stairs,  than  usual.  O'Grady  remarked 
this  to  me  afterwards.  At  the  time,  however,  I  paid  but 
little  attention  to  it.  The  fact  was,  my  thoughts  were  prin- 
cipally running  in  another  channel.  Certain  innuendoes  of 
Lord  Dudley  de  Vere,  certain  broad  hints  he  had  ventured 
upon  even  before  Mrs.  Rooney,  had  left  upon  my  mind  a 
kind  of  vague,  undecided  impression  that,  somehow  or  other, 
I  was  regarded  as  their  dupe.  Miss  Bellew's  manner  was 
certainly  more  cordial,  more  kind  to  me  than  to  any  of  the 
others  who  visited  the  house.  The  Rooneys  themselves 
omitted  nothing  to  humor  my  caprices  and  indulge  my  fan- 
cies, affording  me  at  all  times  opportunities  of  being  alone 
with  Louisa,  joining  in  her  walks,  and  accompanying  her 
on  horseback.  Could  there  be  anything  in  all  this  ?  Was 
this  the  quarter  in  which  the  mine  was  to  explode  ?  This 
painful  doubt  hanging  upon  my  mind  I  entered  the  drawing- 
room. 

The  drawing-room  of  42  Stephen's  Green  had  often 
afforded  me  an  amusing  study,  —  its  strange  confusion  of 
ranks  and  classes  ;  its  melange  of  lordly  loungers  and  city 
beauties  ;  the  discordant  tone  of  conversation,  where  each 
person  discussed  the  very  thing  he   knew  least  of;    the 


A   WAGER.  125 

blooming  daughters  of  a  lady  mayoress  talking  "fashion 
and  the  musical  glasses  ;  "  while  the  witless  scion  of  a 
noble  house  was  endeavoring  to  pass  himself  as  a  sayer  of 
good  things:  These  now,  however,  afforded  me  neither  in- 
terest nor  pleasure;  bent  solely  upon  one  thought,  eager 
alone  to  ascertain  how  far  Louisa  Bellew's  manner  towards 
me  was  the  fruit  of  artifice  or  the  offspring  of  an  artless  and 
unsuspecting  mind,  I  left  O'Grady  to  entertain  a  whole  circle 
of  turbaned  ladies,  while  I  directed  my  course  towards  the 
little  boudoir  where  Louisa  usually  sat. 

In  a  house  where  laxity  of  etiquette  and  a  freedom  of 
manner  prevailed  to  the  extent  I  have  mentioned,  Miss 
Bellew's  more  cautious  and  reserved  demeanor  was  any- 
thing but  popular ;  and  as  there  was  no  lack  of  beauty,  men 
found  it  more  suitable  to  their  lounging  and  indolent  habits 
to  engage  those  in  conversation  who  were  less  exigeante  in 
their  demands  for  amusement,  and  were  equally  merry  them- 
selves, as  mercifully  disposed  when  the  mirth  became  not 
only  easy  but  free. 

Miss  Bellew,  therefore,  was  permitted  to  indulge  many  of 
her  tastes  unmolested  ;  and  as  one  of  these  was  to  work  at 
embroidery  in  the  small  room  in  question,  few  persons  in- 
truded themselves  upon  her,  —  and  even  they  but  for  a 
short  time,  as  if  merely  paying  their  required  homage  to  a 
member  of  the  family. 

As  I  approached  the  door  of  the  boudoir,  my  surprise 
was  not  a  little  to  hear  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere's  voice,  the 
tones  of  which,  though  evidently  subdued  by  design,  had  a 
clear  distinctness  that  made  them  perfectly  audible  where 
I  stood. 

"  Eh  !  you  can't  mean  it,  though  ?  Ton  my  soul,  it 's  too 
bad  !     You  know  I  shall  lose  my  money  if  you  persist." 

"  I  trust  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  is  too  much  of  a  gentle- 
man to  make  my  unprotected  position  in  this  house  the  sub- 
ject of  an  insolent  wager.  I  'm  sure  nothing  in  my  manner 
could  ever  have  given  encouragement  to  such  a  liberty." 

"There,  now,  I  knew  you  didn't  understand  it.  The 
whole  thing  was  a  chance  ;  the  odds  were  at  least  eighteen 


126  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

to  one  against  you,  —  ha,  ha !  I  mean  in  your  favor.  Devil- 
ish good  mistake  that  of  mine.  They  were  all  shaken  up  in 
a  hat.     You  see  there  was  no  collusion,  —  could  be  none." 

"  My  lord,  this  impertinence  becomes  past  enduring ;  and 
if  you  persist  —  " 

"  Well,  then,  why  not  enter  into  the  joke  ?  It  '11  be  a 
devilish  expensive  one  to  me  if  you  don't,  that  I  promise 
you.  What  a  confounded  fool  I  was  not  to  draw  out  when 
Upton  wished  it !  D — n  it !  I  ought  to  have  known  there 
is  no  trusting  to  a  woman."  As  he  said  this,  he  walked 
twice  or  thrice  hurriedly  to  and  fro,  muttering  as  he  went, 
with  ill-suppressed  passion.  "  Laughed  at,  d — n  me  !  that 
I  shall  be,  all  over  the  kingdom.  To  lose  the  money  is  bad 
enough ;  but  the  ridicule  of  the  thing,  that 's  the  devil !  Stay, 
Miss  Bellew,  stop  one  minute,  —  I  have  another  proposition 
to  make.  Begad,  I  see  nothing  else  for  it.  This,  you  know, 
was  all  a  humbug,  —  mere  joke,  nothing  more.  Now,  I  can't 
stand  the  way  I  shall  be  quizzed  about  it,  at  all.  So,  here 
goes  !  hang  me,  if  I  don't  make  the  proposition  in  real  earn- 
est !  There,  now,  say  yes  at  once,  and  we  '11  see  if  I  can't 
turn  the  laugh  against  them." 

There  was  a  pause  for  an  instant,  and  then  Miss  Bellew 
spoke.  I  would  have  given  worlds  to  have  seen  her  at  that 
moment ;  but  the  tone  of  her  voice,  firm  and  unshaken,  sank 
deep  into  my  heart, 

"My  lord,"  said  she,  "this  must  now  cease;  but  as  your 
Lordship  is  fond  of  a  wager,  I  have  one  for  your  acceptance. 
The  sum  shall  be  your  own  choosing.  Whatever  it  be,  I 
stake  it  freely,  that,  as  I  walk  from  this  room,  the  first 
gentleman  I  meet  —  you  like  a  chance,  my  lord,  and  you 
shall  have  one  —  will  chastise  you  before  the  world  for  your 
unworthy,  unmanly  insult  to  a  weak  and  unoffending  girl." 

As  she  spoke,  she  sprang  from  the  room,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing with  indignant  fire,  while  her  cheek,  pale  as  death,  and 
her  heaving  bosom,  attested  how  deep  was  her  passion.  As 
she  turned  the  corner  of  the  door,  her  eyes  met  mine.  In 
an  instant  the  truth  flashed  upon  her  mind.  She  knew  I 
had  overheard  all  that  passed.     She  gasped  painfully  for 


A  WAGER.  127 

breath;  her  lips  moved  with  scarce  a  sound;  a  violent 
trembling  shook  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  she  fell  faint- 
ing to  the  ground. 

I  followed  her  with  my  eyes  as  they  bore  her  from  the 
room ;  and  then,  without  a  thought  for  anything  around  me, 
I  hurriedly  left  the  room,  dashed  downstairs,  and  hastened 
to  my  quarters  in  the  Castle. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


A    NIGHT    OF    TROUBLE. 


Until  the  moment  when  I  reached  the  room  and  threw 
myself  into  a  chair,  my  course  respecting  Lord  Dudley  de 
Vere  seemed  to  present  not  a  single  difficulty.  The  appeal 
so  unconsciously  made  to  me  by  Miss  Bellew,  not  less  than 
my  own  ardent  inclination,  decided  me  on  calling  him  out. 
No  sooner,  however,  did  calm  reflection  succeed  to  the  pas- 
sionate excitement  of  the  moment,  than  at  once  I  perceived 
the  nicety  of  my  position.  Under  what  possible  pretext 
could  I  avow  myself  as  her  champion,  not  as  of  her  own 
choosing  ?  —  for  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  words  she 
uttered  were  merely  intended  as  a  menace,  without  the 
slightest  idea  of  being  acted  on.  To  suffer  her  name,  there- 
fore, to  transpire  in  the  affair  would  be  to  compromise  her 
in  the  face  of  the  world.  Again,  the  confusion  and  terror 
she  evinced  when  she  beheld  me  at  the  door  proved  to  me, 
that,  perhaps  of  all  others,  I  was  the  last  person  she  would 
have  wished  to  be  a  witness  to  the  interview. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  very  difficulty  of  the  affair 
only  made  my  determination  to  go  through  with  it  the 
stronger.  I  have  already  said  my  inclination  also  prompted 
me  to  this  course.  Lord  Dudley's  manner  to  me,  without 
being  such  as  I  could  make  a  plea  for  resenting,  had  ever 
been  of  a  supercilious  and  almost  offensive  character.  If 
there  be  anything  which  more  deeply  than  another  wounds 
our  self-esteem,  it  is  the  assumed  superiority  of  those  whom 
we  heartily  despise.  More  than  once  he  ventured  upon 
hinting  at  the  plans  of  the  Rooneys  respecting  me,  suggest- 
ing that  their  civilities  only  concealed  a  deeper  object ;  and 


A  NIGHT  OF  TROUBLE.  129 

all  this  he  did  with  a  tone  of  half  insolence  that  irritated 
me  ten  times  more  than  an  open  affront.  Often  and  often 
had  I  promised  myself  that  a  day  of  retribution  must  come. 
Again  and 'again  did  I  lay  this  comfort  to  my  heart,  — that, 
one  time  or  other^  his  habitual  prudence  would  desert  him  ; 
that  his  transgression  would  exceed  the  narrow  line  which 
separates  an  impertinent  freedom  from  an  insult;  and 
then  —  Now,  this  time  had  come  at  last.  Such  a  chance 
might  not  again  present  itself,  and  must  not  be  thrown 
away. 

My  reasonings  had  come  to  this  point  when  a  tremendous 
knocking  at  my  door,  and  a  loud  shout  of  "  Jack !  Jack 
Hinton  ! "  announced  O'Grady.  This  was  fortunate.  He 
was  the  only  man  whom  I  knew  well  enough  to  consult  in 
such  a  matter ;  and  of  all  others,  he  was  the  one  on  whose 
advice  and  counsel  I  could  place  implicit  reliance. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  all  this,  my  dear  Hinton  ?  "  said  he, 
as  he  grasped  my  hand  in  both  of  his.  "  I  was  playing 
whist  with  the  tabbies  when  it  occurred,  and  saw  nothing 
of  the  whole  matter.  She  fainted,  did  n't  she  ?  What  the 
deuce  could  you  have  said  or  done  ?  " 

"  Could  /  have  said  or  done !  What  do  you  mean, 
O'Grady  ?  " 

"  Come,  come,  be  frank  with  me ;  what  was  it  ?  If  you 
are  in  a  scrape,  I  am  not  the  man  to  leave  you  in  it." 

"  First  of  all,"  said  I,  assuming  with  all  my  might  a 
forced  and  simulated  composure,  — "  first  of  all,  tell  me 
what  you  heard  in  the  drawing-room." 

"What  I  heard?  Egad,  it  was  plain  enough.  In  the 
beginning,  a  young  lady  came  souse  down  upon  the  floor ; 
screams  and  smelling-bottles  followed;  a  general  running 
hither  and  thither,  in  which  confusion,  by-the-bye,  our 
adversaries  contrived  to  manage  a  new  deal,  though  I  had 
four  by  honors  in  my  hand.  Old  Miss  Macan  upset  my 
markers,  drank  my  negus,  and  then  fainted  off  herself,  with 
a  face  like  an  apothecary's  rose." 

"Yes,  yes,  but,"  said  I  impatiently,  "what  of  Miss 
Bellew  ?  " 

VOL.  I. — 9 


130  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  What  of  her  !  that  you  must  know  best.  You  know,  of 
course,  what  occurred  between  you." 

"  My  dear  O'Grady,"  said  I,  with  passionate  eagerness. 
"  do  be  explicit.  What  did  they  say  in  the  drawing-room  ? 
What  turn  has  been  given  to  this  affair  ?  " 

"  Faith,  I  can't  tell  you ;  I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as  my 
neighbors.  After  the  lady  was  carried  out  and  you  ran 
away,  they  all  began  talking  it  over.  Some  said  you  had 
been  proposing  an  elopement;  others  said  you  hadn't. 
The  Kileys  swore  you  had  asked  to  have  your  picture  back 
again;  and  old  Mrs.  Ram,  who  had  planted  herself  be- 
hind a  curtain  to  overhear  all,  forgot,  it  seems,  that  the 
window  was  open,  and  caught  such  a  cold  in  her  head, 
and  such  a  deafness,  that  she  heard  nothing.  She  says, 
however,  that  your  conduct  was  abominable ;  and  iu  fact, 
my  dear  Hinton,  the  whole  thing  is  a  puzzle  to  us  all." 

"And  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere,"  said  I,  "did  he  offer  no 
explanation  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  something  pretty  much  in  his  usual  style; 
pulled  up  his  stock,  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  and 
muttered  some  indistinct  phrases  about  lovers'  quarrels." 

"  Capital !  "  exclaimed  I  with  delight ;  "  nothing  could 
be  better,  nothing  more  fortunate  than  this !  Now, 
O'Grady,  listen  to  my  version  of  the  matter,  and  then  tell 
me  how  to   proceed  in  it." 

I  here  detailed  to  my  friend  every  circumstance  that  had 
occurred  from  the  moment  of  my  entering  to  my  departure 
from  the  drawing-room.  "  As  to  the  wager,"  said  I,  "  what 
it  was,  when  made,  and  with  whom,  I  know  not." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  know  all  that,"  interrupted  O'Grady ;  "  I 
have  the  whole  thing  perfectly  before  me.  Xow,  let  us  see 
what  is  to  be  done  ;  and  first  of  all,  allow  me  to  ring  the 
bell  for  some  sherry  and  water,  —  that 's  the  head  and 
front  of  a  consultation." 

When  O'Grady  had  mixed  his  glass,  sipped,  corrected, 
and  sipped  again,  he  beat  the  bars  of  the  grate  a  few  mo- 
ments contemplatively  with  the  poker,  and  then  turning  to 
me,  gravely  said,  "  We  must  parade  him,  Jack,  that 's  cer- 


A  NIGHT  OF  TROUBLE.  131 

tain.  Now  for  the  how.  Our  friend  Dudley  is  not  much 
given  to  fighting,  and  it  will  be  rather  difficult  to  obtain  his 
consent.  Indeed,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  insinuation  he 
threw  out^after  you  had  left  the  room,  I  don't  well  see  how 
you  could  push  him  to  it." 

"Why,  my  dear  0' Grady,  was  n't  there  quite  cause 
enough  ?  " 

"Plenty,  no  doubt,  my  dear  Jack,  as  far  as  feeling  goes ; 
but  there  are  innumerable  cases  in  this  life  which,  like 
breaches  of  trust  in  law,  escape  with  slight  punishment. 
Not  but  that,  when  you  owe  a  man  a  grudge,  you  have  it 
always  in  your  power  to  make  him  sensible  of  it;  and 
among  gentlemen  there  is  the  same  intuitive  perception  of 
a  contemplated  collision  as  you  see  at  a  dinner-party  when 
one  fellow  puts  his  hand  on  a  decanter ;  his  friend  at  the 
end  of  the  table  smiles,  and  cries, '  With  pleasure,  my  boy ! ' 
There  is  one  thing,  however,  in  your  favor." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  said  I,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  he  has  lost  his  wager ;  that 's  pretty  clear.  And 
as  that  won't  improve  his  temper,  it 's  possible,  —  mind,  I 
don't  say  more,  but  it's  possible  he  may  feel  better  dis- 
posed to  turn  his  irritation  into  valor,  —  a  much  more  com- 
mon process  in  metaphysical  chemistry  than  the  world  wots 
of.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  best  thing  to  do,  as  it 
strikes  me,  is  to  try  the  cause,  as  our  friend  Paul  would 
say,  on  the  general  issue :  that  is,  to  wait  on  Herbert ;  tell 
him  we  wish  to  have  a  meeting ;  that  after  what  has 
passed,  —  that 's  a  sweet  phrase  is  n't  it,  and  has  got  more 
gentlemen  carried  home  on  a  door  than  any  other  I  know, 
—  that  after  what  has  passed,  the  thing  is  unavoidable,  and 
the  sooner  it  comes  off  the  better.  He  can't  help  refer- 
ring me  to  a  friend,  and  he  can  scarcely  find  any  one  that 
won't  see  the  thing  with  our  eyes.  It 's  quite  clear  Miss 
Bellew's  name  must  be  kept  out  of  the  matter ;  and  now, 
my  boy,  if  you  agree  with  me,  leave  the  whole  affair  in 
my  hands,  tumble  into  bed,  and  go  to  sleep  as  fast  as 
you  can." 

"  I  leave  it  all  to  you,  Phil,"  said  I,  shaking  his  hand 


132  JACK   HIXTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

warmly  ;  "  and  to  prove  my  obedience,  1 11  be  in  bed  in  ten 
minutes." 

O'Grady  finished  the  decanter  of  sherry,  buttoned  up  his 
coat,  and  slapping  his  boots  with  his  cane,  sauntered  down 
stairs,  whistling  an  Irish  quick-step  as  he  went. 

When  I  had  half  accomplished  my  undressing,  I  sat 
down  before  the  fire,  and,  unconsciously  to  myself,  fell  into 
a  train  of  musing  about  my  present  condition.  I  was  very 
young  ;  knew  little  of  the  world ;  the  very  character  of  my 
education  had  been  so  much  under  the  eye  and  direction  of 
my  mother  that  my  knowledge  was  even  less  than  that  of 
the  generality  of  young  men  of  my  own  time  of  life.  It  is 
not  surprising,  then,  if  the  events  which  my  new  career 
hurried  so  rapidly  one  upon  another  in  some  measure  con- 
fused me.  Of  duelling  I  had,  of  course,  heard  repeatedly, 
and  had  learned  to  look  upon  the  necessity  of  it  as  more  or 
less  imperative  upon  every  man  in  the  outset  of  his  career. 
Such  was,  in  a  great  measure,  the  tone  of  the  day ;  and  the 
man  who  attained  a  certain  period  of  life  without  having 
had  at  least  one  affair  of  honor  was  rather  suspected  of 
using  a  degree  of  prudent  caution  in  his  conduct  with  the 
world  than  of  following  the  popular  maxim  of  the  period, 
which  said,  "  Be  always  ready  with  the  pistol." 

The  affair  with  Lord  de  Yere,  therefore,  I  looked  upon 
rather  as  a  lucky  hit ;  I  might  as  well  make  my  debut  with 
him  as  with  any  other.  So  much,  then,  for  the  prejudice 
of  the  period.  Now,  for  my  private  feelings  on  the  subject, 
they  were,  I  confess,  anything  but  satisfactory.  Without 
at  all  entering  into  any  anticipation  I  might  have  felt  as  to 
the  final  result,  I  could  not  avoid  feeling  ashamed  of  my- 
self for  my  total  ignorance  about  the  whole  matter ;  not 
only,  as  I  have  said,  had  I  never  seen  a  duel,  but  I  never 
had  fired  a  pistol  twice  in  my  life.  I  was  naturally  a  ner- 
vous fellow,  and  the  very  idea  of  firing  at  a  word,  would,  I 
knew,  render  me  more  so.  My  dread  that  the  peculiarity 
of  my  constitution  might  be  construed  into  want  of  courage 
increased  my  irritability ;  while  I  felt  that  my  endeavor  to 
acquit  myself  with  all  the  etiquette  and  punctilio  of  the 


A   NIGHT  OF  TROUBLE.  133 

occasion  would  inevitably  lead  me  to  the  commission  of 
some  mistake  or  blunder. 

And  then,  as  to  my  friends  at  home,  what  would  my  father 
say  ?  His"  notions  on  the  subject  I  knew  were  very  rigid, 
and  only  admitted  the  necessity  of  an  appeal  to  arms  as  the 
very  last  resort.  What  account  could  I  give  him,  sufficient- 
ly satisfactory,  of  my  reasons  for  going  out  ?  How  would  my 
mother  feel,  with  all  her  aristocratic  prejudices,  when  she 
heard  of  the  society  where  the  affair  originated  ;  when  some 
glowing  description  of  the  Rooneys  should  reach  her  ?  — 
and  this  some  kind  friend  or  other  was  certain  to  under- 
take. And,  worse  than  all,  Lady  Julia,  my  high-born  cousin, 
whose  beauty  and  sarcasm  had  inspired  me  with  a  mixture 
of  admiration  and  dread,  —  how  should  I  ever  bear  the  sati- 
rical turn  she  would  give  the  whole  affair  ?  Her  malice 
would  be  increased  by  the  fact  that  a  young  and  pretty  girl 
was  mixed  up  in  it;  for  somehow,  I  must  confess,  a  kind  of 
half-flirtation  had  always  subsisted  between  my  cousin  and 
me.  Her  beauty,  her  wit,  her  fascinating  manner,  rendered 
me  at  times  over  head-and-ears  in  love  with  her ;  while,  at 
others,  the  indifference  of  her  manner  towards  me,  or,  still 
worse,  the  ridicule  to  which  she  exposed  me,  would  break 
the  spell  and  dissipate  the  enchantment. 

Thoughts  like  these  were  far  from  assuring  me,  and  con- 
tributed but  little  towards  that  confidence  in  myself  I  stood 
so  much  in  need  of.  And,  again,  what  if  I  were  to  fall  ? 
As  this  thought  settled  on  my  mind,  I  resolved  to  write 
home.  Not  to  my  father,  however  :  I  felt  a  kind  of  con- 
straint about  unburdening  myself  to  him  at  such  a  moment. 
My  mother  was  equally  out  of  the  question ;  in  fact,  a  letter 
to  her  could  only  be  an  apologetic  narrative  of  my  life  in 
Ireland,  —  softening  down  what  she  would  call  the  atroci- 
ties of  my  associates,  and  giving  a  kind  of  Rembrandt  tint 
to  the  Rooneys,  which  might  conceal  the  more  vivid  color- 
ing of  their  vulgarity.  At  such  a  moment  I  had  no  heart 
for  this  ;  such  trifling  would  ill  suit  me  now.  To  Lady 
Julia,  then,  I  determined  to  write :  she  knew  me  well.  He- 
sides,  I  felt  that  when  I  was  no  more,  the  kindliness  of  her 


134  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

nature  would  prevail,  and  she  would  remember  me  but  as 
the  little  lover  that  brought  her  bouquets  from  the  conser- 
vatory ;  that  wrote  letters  to  her  from  Eton ;  that  wore  her 
picture  round  his  neck  at  Sandhurst  —  And,  by-the-bye, 
that  picture  I  had  still  in  my  possession :  this  was  the  time 
to  restore  it.  I  opened  my  writing-desk  and  took  it  out. 
It  was  a  strange  love-gift,  painted  when  she  was  barely  ten 
years  old.  It  represented  a  very  lovely  child,  with  blue 
eyes,  and  a  straight  regularity  of  feature,  like  a  Grecian 
statue.  The  intensity  of  look  that  after  years  developed 
more  fully,  and  the  slight  curl  of  the  lip  that  betrayed  the 
incipient  spirit  of  mockery,  were  both  there ;  still  was  she 
very  beautiful.  I  placed  the  miniature  before  me,  and  fixed 
my  eyes  upon  it.  Carried  away  by  the  illusion  of  the  mo- 
ment, I  burst  into  a  rhapsody  of  proffered  affection,  while  I 
vindicated  myself  against  any  imputation  my  intimacy  with 
Miss  Bellew  might  give  rise  to.  As  I  proceeded,  however, 
I  discovered  that  my  pleading  scarce  established  my  inno- 
cence even  to  myself ;  so  I  turned  away,  and  once  more  sat 
down  moodily  before  the  fire. 

The  Castle  clock  struck  two.  I  started  up,  somewhat 
ashamed  of  myself  at  not  having  complied  with  O'Grady's 
advice,  and  at  once  threw  myself  on  my  bed,  and  fell  sound 
asleep.  Some  confused  impression  upon  my  mind  of  a  threat- 
ened calamity  gave  a  gloomy  character  to  all  my  dreams, 
and  more  than  once  I  awoke  with  a  sudden  start  and  looked 
about  me.  The  flickering  and  uncertain  glare  of  the  dying 
embers  threw  strange  goblin  shapes  upon  the  wall  and  on 
the  old  oak  floor.  The  window-curtains  waved  mournfully 
to  and  fro,  as  the  sighing  night- wind  pierced  the  openings  of 
the  worn  casements,  adding,  by  some  unknown  sympathy,  to 
my  gloom  and  depression ;  and  although  I  quickly  rallied 
myself  from  these  foolish  fancies,  and  again  sank  into  slum- 
ber, it  was  always  again  to  wake  with  the  same  unpleasant 
impressions,  and  with  the  same  sights  and  sounds  about  me. 
Towards  morning  however  I  fell  into  a  deep,  unbroken  sleep, 
from  which  I  was  awakened  by  the  noise  of  some  one  rudely 
drawing  my  curtains.     I  looked  up,  as  I  rubbed  my  eyes  : 


A  NIGHT  OF   TROUBLE.  135 

it  was  Corny  Delany,  who  with  a  mahogany  box  under  his 
arm,  and  a  little  bag  in  his  hand,  stood  eying  me  with  a 
look  in  which  his  habitual  ill-temper  was  dashed  with  a 
slight  mixture  of  scorn  and  pity. 

"  So  you  are  awake  at  last  !  "  said  he  ;  "  faith,  and  you 
sleep  sound,  and,*'  — this  he  muttered  between  his  teeth, — 
"  and  maybe  it 's  sounder  you  '11  sleep  to-morrow  night ! 
The  Captain  bid  me  call  you  at  seven  o'clock,  and  it 's  near 
eight  now.  That  bla-guard  of  a  servant  of  yours  would  n't 
get  up  to  open  the  door  till  I  made  a  cry  of  fire  outside,  and 
puffed  a  few  mouthfuls  of  smoke  through  the  key-hole  !  " 

"  Well  done,  Corny  !     But  where  's  the  Captain  ?  " 

"  Where  is  he  ?  Sorrow  one  o'  me  knows  !  Maybe  at 
the  watchhouse,  maybe  in  George's-street  barrack,  maybe 
in  the  streets,  maybe  —  och,  troth !  there  's  many  a  place 
he  might  be,  and  good  enough  for  him  any  of  them.  Them 's 
the  tools,  well  oiled ;  I  put  flints  in  them." 

"  And  what  have  you  got  in  the  bag,  Corny  ?  " 

"  Maybe  you  '11  see  time  enough.  It 's  the  lint,  the  stick- 
ing-plaster and  the  bandages,  and  the  turn-an '-twist."  This, 
be  it  known,  was  the  Delany  for  toumquet.  "  And,  faith^ 
it 's  a  queer  use  to  put  the  same  bag  to :  his  honor  the  judge 
had  it  made  to  carry  his  notes  in.  Ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !  a  bloody 
little  bag  it  always  was  !  Many  's  the  time  I  seen  the  poor 
craytures  in  the  dock  have  to  hould  on  by  the  spikes  when 
they  'd  see  him  put  his  hands  in  it.  It 's  not  lucky,  the 
same  bag.  Will  you  have  some  brandy-and-water,  and  a 
bit  of  dry  toast  ?  It 's  what  the  Captain  always  gives  them 
the  first  time  they  go  out.  When  they  're  used  to  it,  a  cup 
of  chocolate  with  a  spoonful  of  whiskey  is  a  fine  thing  for 
the  hand." 

I  could  scarce  restrain  a  smile  at  the  notion  of  dieting  a 
man  for  a  duel,  though,  I  confess,  there  seemed  something 
excessively  bloodthirsty  about  it.  However,  resolved  to 
give  Corny  a  favorable  impression  of  my  coolness,  I  said, 
"  Let  me  have  the  chocolate  and  a  couple  of  eggs." 

He  gave  a  grin  a  demon  might  have  envied,  as  he  mut- 
tered to  himself,  "He  wants  to  try  and  die  game,  —  ugh, 


136  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ugh ! "  With  these  words  he  waddled  out  of  the  room  to 
prepare  my  breakfast,  his  alacrity  certainly  increased  by 
the  circumstance  in  which  he  was  employed. 

No  sooner  was  I  alone  than  I  opened  the  pistol-case  to 
examine  the  weapons.  They  were  doubtless  good  ones ; 
but  a  ruder,  more  ill-fashioned,  clumsy  pair  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  conceive.  The  stock,  which  extended  nearly  to 
the  end  of  the  barrel,  was  notched  with  grooves  for  the 
fingers  to  fit  in,  —  the  whole  terminating  in  an  uncouth 
knob,  inlaid  with  small  pieces  of  silver,  which  at  first  I 
imagined  were  purely  ornamental.  On  looking  closer,  how- 
ever, I  perceived  that  each  of  them  contained  a  name  and  a 
date,  with  an  ominous  phrase  beneath,  which  ran  thus : 
"Killed!"  or  thus  :  "Wounded!" 

"Egad,"  thought  I,  "they  are  certainly  the  coolest 
people  in  the  world  in  this  island,  and  have  the  strangest 
notions  withal  of  cheering  a  man's  courage  ! " 

It  was  growing  late,  meanwhile  ;  so  that  without  further 
loss  of  time  I  sprang  out  of  bed  and  set  about  dressing, 
huddling  my  papers  and  Julia's  portrait  into  my  writing- 
desk.  I  threw  into  the  fire  a  few  letters,  and  was  looking 
about  my  room  lest  anything  should  have  escaped  me, 
when  suddenly  the  quick  movement  of  horses'  feet  on  the 
pavement  beneath  drew  me  to  the  window.  As  I  looked 
out,  I  could  just  catch  a  glimpse  of  O'Grady's  figure  as  he 
sprang  from  a  high  tandem  ;  I  then  heard  his  foot  as  he 
mounted  the  stairs,  and  the  next  moment  he  was  knocking 
at  my  door. 

"  Holloa ! "  cried  he ;  "  by  Jove,  I  have  had  a  night  of 
it !  Help  me  off  with  the  coat,  Jack,  and  order  breakfast, 
with  any  number  of  mutton-chops  you  please.  I  never 
felt  so  voracious  in  my  life.  Early  rising  must  be  a  bad 
thing  for  the  health,  if  it  makes  a  man's  appetite  so 
painful." 

While  I  was  giving  my  necessary  directions,  O'Grady 
stirred  up  the  fire,  drew  his  chair  close  to  it,  and  planting 
his  feet  upon  the  fender,  and  expanding  his  hands  before 
the  blaze,  called  out,  — 


A  NIGHT  OF   TROUBLE.  137 

"  Yes,  yes,  quite  right,  —  cold  ham  and  a  devilled  drum- 
stick by  all  means  ;  the  mulled  claret  must  have  nothing 
but  cloves  and  a  slice  of  pineapple  in  it ;  and,  mind,  don't 
let  them  fry  the\  kidneys  in  champagne,  —  they  are  fifty 
times  better  in  moselle ;  we  '11  have  the  champagne  au 
naturel.  There,  now,  shut  the  door  !  there's  a  confounded 
current  of  air  comes  up  that  cold  staircase.  So,  come  over, 
my  boy  ;  let  me  give  you  all  the  news.     And  to  begin  :  — 

"  After  I  parted  with  you,  I  went  over  to  De  Vere's 
quarters,  and  heard  that  he  had  just  changed  his  clothes 
and  driven  over  to  Clare  Street.  I  followed  immediately ; 
but,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  he  left  that  just  five  minutes 
before,  with  Watson  of  the  Fifth,  who  lives  in  one  of  the 
hotels  near.  This,  you  know,  looked  like  business  ;  and  as 
they  told  me  they  were  to  be  back  in  half  an  hour,  I  cut 
into  a  rubber  of  whist  with  Darcy  and  the  rest  of  them, 
where,  what  between  losing  heavily  and  waiting  for  those 
fellows,  I  never  got  up  till  half-past  four ;  when  I  did,  it 
was  minus  Paul's  check,  all  the  loose  cash  about  me,  and  a 
bill  for  one  hundred  and  thirty  to  Vaughan.  Pleasant,  all 
that,  was  n't  it  ?  Monk,  who  took  my  place,  told  me  that 
Herbert  and  Watson  were  gone  out  together  to  the  park, 
where  I  should  certainly  find  them.  Off  then  I  set  for  the 
Phoenix,  and  just  as  I  was  entering  the  gate  of  the  Lodge  a 
chaise  covered  with  portmanteaus  and  hat-boxes  drove  past 
me.  I  had  just  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  De  Vere's  face 
as  the  light  fell  suddenly  upon  it  ;  I  turned  as  quickly  as 
possible,  and  gave  chase  down  Barrack  Street.  We  flew, 
he  leading,  and  I  endeavoring  to  keep  up ;  but  my  poor 
hack  was  so  done  up,  between  waiting  at  the  club  and  the 
sharp  drive,  that  I  found  we  could  n't  keep  up  the  pace. 
Fortunately,  however,  a  string  of  coal-cars  blocked  up 
Essex  bridge,  upon  which  my  friend  came  to  a  check,  and  I 
also.  I  jumped  out  immediately,  and  running  forward,  just 
got  up  in  the  nick,  as  they  were  once  more  about  to  move 
forward.  '  Ah,  Dudley,'  cried  I,  '  I  've  had  a  sharp  run  for 
it,  but  by  good  fortune  have  found  you  at  last.'  I  wish  you 
had  seen  his  face  as  I  said  these  words ;  he  leaned  forward 


138  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

in  the  carriage  so  as  completely  to  prevent  Watson,  who 
was  with  him,  overhearing  what  passed. 

"  '  May  I  ask,'  said  he,  endeavoring  to  get  up  a  little  of 
his  habitual  coolness,  —  '  may  I  ask  what  so  very  pressing 
has  sent  you  in  pursuit  of  me  ? ' 

"  '  Nothing  which  should  cause  your  present  uneasiness,' 
replied  I,  in  a  tone  and  a  look  he  could  not  mistake. 

" '  Eh  —  aw  !  don't  take  you  exactly  ;  anything  gone 
wrong  ? ' 

" '  You  've  a  capital  memory,  my  lord,  when  it  suits  you ; 
pray,  call  it  to  your  aid  for  a  few  moments,  and  it  will  save 
us  both  a  deal  of  trouble.  My  business  with  you  is  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Hinton,  and  I  have  to  request  you  will  at  once 
refer  me  to  a  friend.' 

" '  Eh  !  you  want  to  fight  ?  Is  that  it  ?  I  say,  Watson, 
they  want  to  make  a  quarrel  out  of  that  foolish  affair  I 
told  you  of.' 

" '  Is  Major  Watson  your  friend  on  this  occasion,  my 
lord  ? ' 

" '  No  ;  oh,  no  !  that  is,  I  did  n't  say  —  I  told  Watson 
how  they  walked  into  me  for  three  hundred  at  Rooney's. 
Must  confess  I  deserved  it  richly  for  dining  among  such  a 
set  of  fellows ;  and  as  I  have  paid  the  money  and  cut  the 
whole  concern,  I  don't  see  what  more 's  expected  of  me.' 

" '  We  have  very  little  expectation,  my  lord,  but  a  slight 
hope,  that  you  '11  not  disgrace  the  cloth  you  wear  and  the 
profession  you  follow.' 

" '  I  say,  Watson,  do  you  think  I  ought  to  take  notice  of 
these  words  ? ' 

" '  Would  your  Lordship  like  them  stronger  ?  ' 

" '  One  moment  if  you  please,  Captain  O'Grady,'  said 
Major  Watson,  as,  opening  the  door  of  the  chaise,  he 
sprang  out.  'Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  has  detailed  to  me, 
and  of  course  correctly,  the  whole  of  his  last  night's  pro- 
ceedings. He  has  expressed  himself  as  ready  and  anxious 
to  apologize  to  your  friend  for  any  offence  he  may  have 
given  him,  —  in  fact,  that  their  families  are  in  some  way 
connected,  and  any  falling  out  would  be  a  very  unhappy 


A  NIGHT   OF  TROUBLE.  139 

tiling  between  them  ;  and,  last  of  all,  Lord  Dudley  has 
resigned  his  appointment  as  aide-de-camp,  and  resolved  on 
leaving  Ireland ;  in  two  hours  more  he  will  sail  from  this. 
So  I  trust  that  under  every  circumstance  you  will  see  the 
propriety  of  not  pressing  the  affair  any  further.' 

"  <  With  the  apology  —  ' 

"  <  That  of  course,'  said  Watson. 

" '  I  say,'  cried  Herbert,  '  we  shall  be  late  at  the  Pigeon- 
house  ;  it 's  half-past  seven.' 

"Watson  whispered  a  few  words  into  his  ear:  he  was 
silent  for  a  second,  and  a  slight  crimson  flush  settled  on 
his  cheek. 

"  '  It  won't  do  for  me  if  they  talk  of  this  afterwards ;  but 
tell  him  — ■  I  mean  Hinton  —  that  I  am  sorry  ;  that  is,  I 
wish  him  to  forgive  — ' 

"  '  There,  there,'  said  I,  impatiently,  '  drive  on !  that  is 
quite  enough ! ' 

"The  next  moment  the  chaise  was  out  of  sight,  and  I 
leaned  against  the  balustrade  of  the  bridge  with  a  sick 
feeling  at  my  heart  I  never  felt  before.  Vaughan  came 
by  at  the  moment  with  his  tandem,  so  I  made  him  turn 
about  and  set  me  down ;  and  here  I  am,  my  boy,  now  that 
my  qualmishness  has  passed  off,  ready  to  eat  you  out  of 
house  and  home  if  the  means  would  only  present  them- 
selves." 

Here  ended  O'Grady's  narrative ;  and  as  breakfast  very 
shortly  after  made  its  appearance,  our  conversation  dropped 
into  broken,  disjointed  sentences,  — the  burden  of  which  on 
his  part  was,  that,  although  no  man  would  deserve  more 
gratitude  from  the  household  and  the  garrison  generally 
than  myself  for  being  the  means  of  exporting  Lord  de  Vere, 
yet  that  under  every  view  of  the  case  all  effort  should  be 
made  to  prevent  publicity,  and  stop  the  current  of  scandal 
such  an  event  was  calculated  to  give  rise  to  in  the  city. 

"  No  fear  of  that  I  hope,"  said  I. 

"  Every  fear,  my  dear  boy.  We  live  in  a  village  here : 
every  man  hears  his  friend's  watch  tick,  and  every  lady 
knows  what  her  neighbor  paid   for  her  paste  diamonds. 


140  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

However,  be  comforted !  your  reputation  will  scarcely 
stretch  across  the  Channel ;  and  one's  notoriety  must 
have  strong  claims  before  it  pass  the  custom-house  at 
Liverpool." 

"  Well,  that  is  something ;  but  hang  it,  O'Grady,  I  wish 
I  had  had  a  shot  at  him." 

"Of  course  you  do;  nothing  more  natural,  and  at  the 
same  time,  if  you  care  for  the  lady,  nothing  more  mal 
apropos.  Do  what  you  will,  her  name  will  be  mixed  up 
in  the  matter ;  but  had  it  gone  further,  she  must  have  been 
deeply  compromised  between  you.  You  are  too  young, 
Jack,  to  understand  much  of  this ;  but  take  my  word  for 
it,  —  fight  about  your  sister,  your  aunt,  your  maternal 
grand-mother,  if  you  like,  but  never  for  the  girl  you  are 
about  to  marry ;  it  involves  a  false  position  to  both  her 
and  yourself.  And  now  that  I  am  giving  advice,  just  give 
me  another  cutlet.     I  say,  Corny,  any  hot  potatoes  ?  " 

"  Thim  was  hot  awhile  ago,"  said  Corny,  without  taking 
his  hands  from  his  pockets. 

"  Well,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  even  that.  Put  that  pistol- 
case  back  again.  Ah,  there  goes  Vaughan ;  I  want  a  word 
with  him." 

So  saying,  he  sprang  up,  and  hastened  downstairs. 

"  What  did  he  say  I  was  to  do  with  the  pistols  ?  "  said 
Corny,  as  he  polished  the  case  with  the  ample  cuff  of  his 
coat. 

"You  are  to  put  them  by:  we  sha'n't  want  them  this 
morning." 

"And  there  is  to  be  no  dewil  after  all,"  said  he  with  a 
most  fiendish  grin.  "  Ugh,  ugh  !  did  n't  I  know  it  ?  Ye  's 
come  from  the  wrong  side  of  the  water  for  that.  It 's  little 
powder  ye  blaze,  for  all  your  talking." 

Taking  out  one  of  the  pistols  as  he  spoke,  he  examined 
the  cock  for  a  few  minutes  patiently,  and  then  muttered  to 
himself,  "Wasn't  I  right  to  put  in  the  ould  flints?  The 
devil  a  more  ye  'd  be  doing,  I  guessed,  nor  making  a  flash  in 
the  pan ! " 

It  was  rather  difficult,  even   with  every  allowance  for 


A  NIGHT   OF  TROUBLE.  141 

Mister  Delany's  temper,  to  submit  to  his  insolence  pa- 
tiently. After  all,  there  was  nothing  better  to  be  done ; 
for  Corny  was  even  greater  in  reply  than  attack,  and  any 
rejoinder  oh  my  part  would  unquestionably  have  made  me 
fare  the  worse.  Endeavoring,  therefore,  to  hum  a  tune,  I 
strolled  to  the  window  and  looked  out ;  while  the  imperturb- 
able Corny,  opening  the  opposite  sash,  squibbed  off  both 
pistols  previous  to  replacing  them  in  the  box. 

I  cannot  say  what  it  was  in  the  gesture  and  the  action  of 
this  little  fiend;  but  somehow  the  air  of  absurdity  thus 
thrown  over  our  quarrel  by  this  ludicrous  termination  hurt 
me  deeply,  and  Corny's  face  as  he  snapped  the  trigger  was 
a  direct  insult.  All  my  self-respect,  all  my  self-approval 
gave  way  in  a  moment,  and  I  could  think  of  nothing  but 
Cross  Corny's  commentary  on  my  courage. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  half  aloud,  "  it  is  a  confounded  country,  —  if 
for  nothing  else,  that  every  class  and  condition  of  man  thinks 
himself  capable  to  pronounce  upon  his  neighbor.  Hard 
drink  and  duelling  are  the  national  penates ;  and  Heaven 
help  him  who  does  not  adopt  the  religion  of  the  land !  My 
English  servant  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  criticising 
a  chorus  of  Euripides  as  my  conduct ;  and  yet  this  little 
wretch  not  only  does  so,  but  does  it  to  my  face,  superadding 
a  sneer  upon  my  country ! " 

This,  like  many  other  of  my  early  reflections  on  Ireland, 
had  its  grain  of  truth  and  its  bushel  of  fallacy ;  and  before 
I  quitted  the  land  I  learned  to  make  the  distinction. 


CHAPTER    XIV.       ' 

THE   PARTING. 

From  motives  of  delicacy  towards  Miss  Bellew  I  did  not 
call  that  day  at  the  Rooneys.  For  many  months  such  an 
omission  on  my  part  had  never  occurred.  Accordingly, 
when  O'Grady  returned  at  night  to  the  Castle,  he  laugh- 
ingly told  me  that  the  house  was  in  half-mourning.  Paul 
sat  moodily  over  his  wine,  scarce  lifting  his  head,  and  look- 
ing what  he  himself  called  non-suited.  Mrs.  Paul,  whose 
grief  was  always  in  the  active  mood,  sobbed,  hiccupped, 
gulped,  and  waved  her  arms  as  if  she  had  lost  a  near  rela- 
tive. Miss  Bellew  did  not  appear  at  all,  and  Phil  dis- 
covered that  she  had  written  home  that  morning,  request- 
ing her  father  to  send  for  her  without  loss  of  time. 

"  The  affair,  as  you  see,"  continued  O'Grady,  "  has  turned 
out  ill  for  all  parties.  Dudley  has  lost  his  post,  you  your 
mistress,  and  I  my  money,  —  a  pretty  good  illustration  how 
much  mischief  a  mere  fool  can  at  any  moment  make  in 
society." 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  I 
mounted  my  horse  to  ride  over  to  Stephen's  Green.  As  I 
passed  slowly  along  Dame  Street  my  attention  was  called 
to  a  large  placard,  which,  in  front  of  a  house  opposite  the 
lower  Castle  gate,  had  attracted  a  considerable  crowd 
around  it.  I  was  spared  the  necessity  of  stopping  to  read, 
by  the  hoarse  shout  of  a  ragged  ruffian  who  elbowed  his 
way  through  the  mob,  carrying  on  one  arm  a  mass  of 
printed  handbills  ;  the  other  hand  he  held  beside  his  mouth 
to  aid  the  energy  of  his  declamation.  "  Here  's  the  full 
and  true  account,"  cried  he,  "  of  the  bloody  and  me-lan- 
cho-ly  duel  that  tuk  place  yesterday  morning  in  the  Phay- 


THE   PARTING.  143 

nix  Park,  between  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  and  Mr.  Hinton, 
two  edge-du-congs  to  his  Grace  the  Lord  Liftinint,  wid  all 
the  particulars,  for  one  ha  'penny." 

"  Here  's  ~the  whole  correspondence  between  the  Castle 
bucks,"  shouted  a  rival  publisher,  the  Colburn  to  this  Bent- 
ley,  "  wid  a  beautiful  new  song  to  an  old  tune,  — 

"  Bang  it  up,  bang  it  up,  to  the  lady  in  the  Green  !  " 

"Give  me  one,  if  you  please,"  said  a  motherly -looking 
woman,  in  a  gray  cloak. 

"  No,  ma'am,  a  penny,"  responded  the  vendor.  "  The 
bloody  fight  for  a  halfpenny !  What ! "  said  he,  "  would 
you  have  an  Irish  melody  and  the  picture  of  an  illigint 
female  for  a  copper  ?  " 

"  Sing  us  the  song,  Peter !  "  called  out  another. 

"  This  is  too  bad !  "  said  I,  passionately,  as  driving  the 
spurs  into  my  horse  I  dashed  through  the  ragged  mob,  up- 
setting and  overturning  all  before  me, — not,  however, 
before  I  was  recognized;  and,  as  I  cantered  down  the 
street,  a  shout  of  derision  and  a  hail-storm  of  offensive 
epithets  followed  me  as  I  went. 

It  was,  I  confess,  sometime  before  I  recovered  my  equa- 
nimity enough  to  think  of  my  visit.  For  myself,  individu- 
ally, I  cared  little  or  nothing ;  but  who  could  tell  in  what 
form  these  things  might  reach  my  friends  in  England  ?  — 
how  garbled,  how  exaggerated,  how  totally  perverted  !  And 
then,  too,  Miss  Bellew !  It  was  evident  that  she  was 
alluded  to.  I  trembled  to  think  that  her  name,  polluted  by 
the  lips  of  such  wretches  as  these,  should  be  cried  through 
the  dark  alleys  and  purlieus  of  the  capital,  a  scoff  and  a 
mockery  among  the  very  outcasts  of  vice. 

As  I  turned  the  corner  of  Grafton  Street  a  showy  car- 
riage witb  four  gray  horses  passed  me  by.  I  knew  it  was 
the  Eooney  equipage,  and  although  for  a  moment  I  was 
chagrined  that  the  object  of  my  visit  was  defeated,  on 
second  thoughts  I  satisfied  myself  that  perhaps  it  was  quite 
as  well ;  so  I  rode  on  to  leave  my  card.  On  reaching  the 
door,  from  which  already  some  visitors  were  turning  away, 


144  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

I  discovered  that  I  had  forgotten  my  ticket-case  ;  so  I  dis- 
mounted to  write  my  name  in  the  visiting-book,  —  for  this 
observance  among  great  people  Mrs.  Rooney  had  borrowed, 
to  the  manifest  horror  and  dismay  of  many  respectable 
citizens. 

"  A  note  for  you,  sir,"  said  the  butler,  in  his  most  silvery 
accent,  as  he  placed  a  small  sealed  billet  in  my  hand. 

I  opened  it  hastily.     It  contained  but  two  lines  :  — 

"  Miss  Bellew  requests  Mr.  Hinton  will  kindly  favor  her  with  a 
few  moments'  conversation  at  an  early  opportunity." 

"  Is  Miss  Bellew  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  servant,  who  stood  waiting  to  pre- 
cede me  upstairs,  and  announce  me. 

"Mr.  Hinton,"  said  the  man;  and  the  words  echoed  in 
the  empty  drawing-room,  as  he  closed  the  door  be] and  me. 
The  next  moment  I  heard  the  rustle  of  a  silk  dress,  and 
Miss  Bellew  came  out  of  the  boudoir  and  walked  towards 
me.  Contrary  to  her  usual  habit,  which  was  to  hold  out 
her  hand  to  me,  she  now  came  timidly,  hesitatingly  for- 
ward, —  her  eyes  downcast,  and  her  whole  air  and  ap- 
pearance indicating,  not  only  the  traces  of  sorrow,  but  of 
physical  suffering. 

"  Mr.  Hinton,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  every  accent  of  which 
vibrated  on  my  heart,  "  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  ask  a 
few  moments'  interview  with  you ;  for  although  it  is  not 
only  probable,  but  almost  certain,  we  shall  not  meet  again, 
yet  I  wish  to  explain  certain  portions  of  my  conduct,  and 
indeed  to  make  them  the  reason  of  a  favor  I  have  to  ask  at 
your  hands." 

"Permit  me  to  interrupt  you  for  a  moment,"  said  I.  "  It 
is  evident  how  painful  the  matter  you  would  speak  of  is  to 
you ;  you  have  no  need  of  explanation,  least  of  all  to  me. 
By  accident  I  overheard  that  which,  however  high  my 
esteem  for  Miss  Bellew  before,  could  but  elevate  her  in 
my  eyes.  Pass  then  at  once,  I  beseech  you,  to  what  you 
call  a  favor ;  there  is  no  service  you  can  seek  for  —  " 

"  I  thank  you,"  replied  she,  in  a  voice  scarcely  articulate ; 


THE   PARTING.  145 

"you  have,  indeed,  spared  me  much  in  not  asking  me  to 
speak  of  what  it  is  misery  enough  to  remember.  But  it  is 
not  the  first  time  my  unprotected  position  in  this  house  has 
exposed  me  to  outrage,  though  assuredly  it  shall  be  the 
last."  The  tone  of  indignation  she  spoke  in  supplied  her 
with  energy,  as  she  hurriedly  continued :  "  Already,  Mr. 
Hinton,  persons  have  dared  to  build  a  scandal  upon  the 
frail  foundation  of  this  insolent  wager.  Your  name  has 
been  mixed  up  with  it  in  such  a  way  that  no  possible  inter- 
course could  exist  between  us  without  being  construed  into 
evidence  of  a  falsehood;  therefore,  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  ask  you  to  discontinue  your  visits  here  for  the  few 
days  I  may  yet  remain.  I  have  already  written  home,  — 
the  answer  may  arrive  the  day  after  to-morrow ;  and  while 
I  feel  that  I  but  ill  repay  the  hospitality  and  kindness  I 
have  received  and  have  met  with  in  closing  the  door  to  a 
most  valued  guest,  I  am  assured  you  will  understand  and 
approve  my  motives,  and  not  refuse  me  my  request." 

Delighted  at  the  prospect  of  being  in  some  way  engaged 
in  a  service,  I  had  listened  with  a  throbbing  heart  up  to 
the  moment  she  concluded.  Nothing  could  so  completely 
overthrow  all  my  hopes  as  these  last  few  words.  Seeing 
my  silence  and  my  confusion,  —  for  I  knew  not  what  to 
say,  —  she  added,  in  a  slightly  tremulous  voice,  — 

"  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Hinton,  that  my  little  knowledge  of 
the  world  should  have  led  me  into  this  indiscretion.  I  per- 
ceive from  your  manner  that  I  have  asked  a  sacrifice  you 
are  unwilling  to  make.  I  ought  to  have  known  that  habits 
have  their  influence,  as  well  as  inclinations  ;  and  that  this 
house,  being  the  resort  of  your  friends  —  " 

"  Oh,  how  much,  how  cruelly,  you  have  mistaken  me  ! 
Not  on  this  account,  not  for  such  reasons  as  you  suppose, 
did  I  hesitate  in  my  reply  ;  far  from  it.  Indeed,  the  very 
cause  which  made  me  a  frequent  visitor  of  this  house  is 
that  which  now  renders  me  unable  to  answer  you."  A 
slight  flush  upon  her  cheek  and  a  tremulous  motion  of  her 
lip  prevented  my  adding  more.     "  Fear  not,  Miss  Bellew," 

VOL.  I.  — 10 


146  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

said  I,  —  "  fear  not  from  me  ;  however  different  the  feeling 
that  would  prompt  it,  no  speech  of  mine  shall  cause  you 
pain  to  listen  to,  however  the  buried  thought  may  rack  my 
own  bosom.     You  shall  have  your  request :  good-by." 

"  Nay,  nay,  not  so,"  said  she,  as  she  raised  her  handker- 
chief to  her  eyes,  and  gave  a  soft  but  sickly  smile;  "you 
must  n't  go  without  my  thanking  you  for  all  your  kindness. 
It  may  so  chance  that  one  day  or  other  you  will  visit  the 
wild  west ;  if  so,  pray  don't  forget  that  my  father,  of  whom 
you  have  heard  me  speak  so  much,  would  be  but  too  happy 
to  thank  one  who  has  been  so  kind  to  his  daughter.  And 
if  that  day  should  come,"  —  here  a  slight  gleam  of  anima- 
tion shot  across  her  features,  — "  I  beseech  you  not  to  think, 
from  what  you  will  see  of  me  there,  that  I  have  forgotten 
all  your  good  teaching  and  all  your  lessons  about  London 
manner,  though  I  sadly  fear  that  neither  my  dress  nor  de- 
portment will  testify  in  my  favor ;  and  so  good-by." 

She  drew  her  glove  from  her  hand  as  she  spoke.  I  raised 
the  taper  fingers  respectfully  to  my  lips,  and  without  ven- 
turing another  look,  muttered  "  good-by,"  and  left  the 
room. 

As  step  by  step  I  loitered  on  the  stairs,  I  struggled  with 
myself  against  the  rising  temptation  to  hurry  back  to  her 
presence,  and  tell  her  that  although  hitherto  the  fancied 
security  of  meeting  her  every  day  had  made  me  a  stranger 
to  my  own  emotions,  the  hour  of  parting  had  dispelled  the 
illusion  ;  the  thought  of  separation  had  unveiled  the  depth 
of  my  heart,  and  told  me  that  I  loved  her.  Was  this  true  ? 
It  was. 


x CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    LETTER    FROM    HOME. 

Feigning  illness  to  O'Grady  as  the  reason  of  my  not  go- 
ing to  the  Rooneys,  I  kept  my  quarters  for  several  days, 
during  which  time  it  required  all  my  resolution  to  enable 
me  to  keep  my  promise ;  and  scarcely  an  hour  of  the  day 
went  over  without  my  feeling  tempted  to  mount  my  horse 
and  try  if,  perchance,  I  could  not  catch  even  a  passing  look 
at  her  once  more.  Miss  Bellew  was  the  first  woman  who 
had  ever  treated  me  as  a  man ;  this  in  itself  had  a  strong 
hold  on  my  feelings,  for  after  all,  what  flattery  is  there  so 
artful  as  that  which  invests  us  with  a  character  to  which 
we  feel  in  our  hearts  our  pretension  is  doubtful  ?  Why 
has  college  life,  why  has  the  army,  such  a  claim  upon  our 
gratitude  at  our  outset  in  the  world?  Is  it  not  the  ac- 
knowledgment of  our  manhood  ?  And  for  the  same 
reason  the  man  who  first  accepts  our  bill,  and  the  woman 
who  first  receives  our  addresses,  have  an  unqualified  right 
to  our  regard  for  evermore. 

It  is  the  sense  of  what  we  seem  to  others  that  moulds 
and  fashions  us  through  life ;  and  how  many  a  character 
that  seems  graven  in  letters  of  adamant  took  its  type,  after 
all,  from  some  chance  or  casual  circumstance,  some  passing 
remark,  some  hazarded  expression !  We  begin  by  simulat- 
ing a  part,  and  we  end  by  dovetailing  it  into  our  nature  : 
thence  the  change  which  a  first  passion  works  in  every 
young  mind.  The  ambition  to  be  loved  and  the  desire  to 
win  affection  teach  us  those  ways  of  pleasing,  which, 
whether  real  or  affected,  become  part  and  parcel  of  our- 
selves. Little  know  we  in  the  passion  we  believe  to  be 
the  most  disinterested  how  much  of  pure  egoism  is  mixed 


148  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

up ;  and  well  is  it  for  us  that  such  is  the  case.  The  im- 
aginary standard  we  set  up  before  ourselves  is  a  goal  to 
strive  for,  an  object  of  high  hope  before  us ;  and  few,  if 
any,  of  our  bolder  enterprises  in  after  life  have  not  their 
birth  in  the  cradle  of  first  love.  The  accolade  that  in  olden 
days  by  its  magic  touch  converted  the  humble  squire  into 
the  spurred  and  belted  knight  had  no  such  charm  as  the 
first  beam  from  a  bright  eye,  when,  falling  upon  the  hid- 
den depths  of  our  heart,  it  has  shown  us  a  mine  of  rich 
thoughts,  of  dazzling  hopes,  of  bright  desires.  This  indeed 
is  a  change ;  and  who  is  there,  having  felt  it,  has  not 
walked  forth  a  prouder  and  a  nobler  spirit  ? 

Thoughts  like  these  came  rushing  on  my  mind  as  I  re- 
flected on  my  passion  for  Louisa  Bellew ;  and  as  I  walked 
my  room  my  heart  bounded  with  elation,  and  my  step  grew 
firm  in  its  tread,  for  I  felt  that  already  a  new  influence  was 
beaming  on  me,  a  new  light  was  shining  upon  my  path  in 
life.  Musing  thus,  I  paid  but  little  attention  to  my  ser- 
vant, who  had  just  left  a  letter  upon  my  table ;  my  eye  at 
length  glanced  at  the  address,  which  I  perceived  was  in  my 
mother's  hand-writing.  I  opened  it  somewhat  carelessly, 
for  somehow  my  dear  mother's  letters  had  gradually  de- 
creased in  their  interest  as  my  anti-Irish  prejudices  grew 
weaker  by  time ;  her  exclusively  English  notions  I  could  no 
longer  respond  to  so  freely  as  before,  and  as  I  knew  the 
injustice  of  some  of  her  opinions  I  felt  proportionably 
disposed  to  mistrust  the  truth  of  many  others. 

The  letter,  as  usual,  was  crossed  and  recrossed ;  for  noth- 
ing, after  all,  was  so  thorough  a  criterion  of  fashion  as  a  pe- 
nurious avoidance  of  postage,  and  in  consequence  scarcely 
a  portion  of  the  paper  was  uncovered  by  ink.  The  detail 
of  balls  and  dinners,  the  on-dits  of  the  town,  the  rumored 
changes  in  the  ministry,  —  who  was  to  come  in  and  who  to 
go  out ;  whether  Lord  Arthur  got  a  regiment,  or  Lady  Mary 
a  son,  —  had  all  become  comparatively  uninteresting  to  me. 
What  we  know  and  what  we  live  in  is  the  world  to  us ;  and 
the  arrival  of  a  new  bear  is  as  much  a  matter  of  interest  in 
the  prairies  of  the  far  west  as  the  first  night  of  a  new 


THE   LETTER   FROM   HOME.  149 

ballet  in  the  circles  of  Paris.  In  all  probability,  therefore, 
after  satisfying  myself  that  my  friends  were  well,  I  should 
have  been  undutiful  enough  to  put  my  mother's  letter  to 
bed  in  a  card-rack  without  any  very  immediate  intention  of 
disturbing  its  slumbers,  when  suddenly  the  word  "  Rooney  " 
attracted  my  eye  and.  at  once  awakened  my  curiosity.  How 
the  name  of  these  people  should  have  come  to  my  mother's 
aristocratic  ears  I  could  not  conceive  ;  for  although  I  had 
myself  begun  a  letter  about  them,  yet,  on  second  thoughts, 
I  deemed  it  better  to  consign  it  to  the  fire  than  risk  a 
discovery  by  no  means  necessary. 

I  now  sat  patiently  down  before  the  fire,  resolved  to  spell 
over  the  letter  from  beginning  to  end,  and  suffer  nothing  to 
escape  me.  All  her  letters,  like  the  preamble  of  a  deed, 
began  with  a  certain  formula,  —  a  species  of  lamentation 
over  her  wretched  health ;  the  difficulty  of  her  case,  which, 
consisting  in  the  absence  of  all  symptoms,  had  puzzled  the 
Faculty  for  years  long ;  the  inclemency  of  the  weather, 
which   by  some  fatality  of  fortune  was  sure   to  be   rainy 

when  Dr.  Y said  it  ought  to  be  fine,  and  oppressively 

hot  when  he  assured  her  she  required  a  bracing  element ; 
besides,  it  was  evident  the  medical  men  mistook  her  case, 
and  what  chance  had  she,  with  Providence  and  the  College 
of  Physicians  against  her  !  Then  every  one  was  unkind ; 
nobody  believed  her  sick,  or  thought  her  valuable  life  in 
danger,  although  from  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  to  the 
same  hour  the  next  morning  she  was  continually  before 
their  eyes,  driving  in  the  park,  visiting,  dining,  and  even 
dancing,  too,  —  in  fact,  exerting  herself  in  every  imagin- 
able shape  and  form  for  the  sake  of  an  ungrateful  world 
that  had  nothing  but  hollow  civilities  to  show  her,  instead 
of  tears  for  her  sufferings.  Skimming  my  eye  rapidly  over 
this,  I  came  at  length  to  the  well-known  paragraph  which 
always  concluded  this  exordium,  and  which  I  could  have 
repeated  by  heart,  —  the  purport  of  it  being  simply  a  pro- 
phetic menace  of  what  would  be  the  state,  and  what  the  feel- 
ings, of  various  persons  unknown,  when  at  her  demise  they 
discovered  how  unjustly,  how  ungenerously,  how  cruelly 


150  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

they  had  once  or  twice  complimented  her  upon  her  health 
and  looks,  during  her  lifetime.  The  undying  remorse  of 
those  unfeeling  wretches,  among  whom  it  was  very  plain 
my  father  was  numbered,  was  expatiated  upon  with  much 
force  and  Christian  charity  ;  for  as  certain  joint-stock  com- 
panies contrive  in  their  advertisements  to  give  an  apparent 
stability  to  their  firm  by  quoting  some  well-known  Coutts 
or  Drummond  as  their  banker,  so  my  poor  mother,  by 
simply  introducing  the  word  "  Providence  "  into  all  her 
worldly  transactions,  thought  she  was  discharging  the  most 
rigid  of  Christian  duties,  and  securing  a  happy  retreat  for 
herself  when  that  day  should  arrive  when  neither  rouge 
nor  false  hair  would  supply  the  deficiencies  of  youth,  and 
death  should  unlock  the  jaw  the  dentist  had  furnished. 

After  this  came  the  column  of  court  gossip,  the  last  pun 
of  the  prince,  and  a  mot  of  Mr.  Canning.  "  We  hope,"  con- 
tinued she,  "  poor  Somerset  will  go  to  Madrid  as  ambassador ; 
to  refuse  him  would  be  a  great  cruelty,  as  he  has  been  or- 
dered by  his  medical  men  to  try  a  southerly  climate."  Hum ; 
ah  !  —  "  Lady  Jane  to  replace  Miss  Barclay  with  the  Land- 
gravine." Very  stupid  all  this.  But,  come  ;  here  we  have 
it !  The  writing  too  changes,  as  if  a  different  spirit  had  dic- 
tated it. 

"  Two  o'clock.  I  've  just  returned  from  the  Grevilles,  seriously  ill 
from  the  effect  of  the  news  that  has  reached  me.  Wretched  boy  ! 
what  have  you  done  I  What  frightful  career  of  imprudence  have  you 
entered  upon  ?  Write  to  me  at  once;  for  although  I  shall  take  im- 
mediate steps  for  your  recall,  I  shall  be  in  a  fever  of  impatience  till 
you  tell  me  all  about  it.  Poor  dear  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere,  how  I  love 
him  for  the  way  he  speaks  of  you  !  for  although,  evidently,  your  con- 
duct to  him  has  been  something  very  gross,  yet  his  language  respect- 
ing you  is  marked  not  only  by  forbearance,  but  by  kindness.  Indeed, 
he  attributes  the  spirit  you  have  manifested  to  the  instigation  of  an- 
other member  of  the  staff,  whose  name,  with  his  habitual  delicacy, 
we  could  not  prevail  upon  him  to  disclose.  His  accouut  of  that 
wretched  country  is  distressing  indeed  ;  the  frightful  state  of  society, 
the  barbarism  of  the  natives,  and  the  frequency  of  bloodshed.  I  shall 
not  close  my  eyes  to-night  thinking  of  you  ;  though  he  nas  endeav- 
ored to  reassure  me  by  telling  us,  that,  as  the  Castle  is  a  strong  place 


THE   LETTER  FROM   HOME.  151 

and  a  considerable  military  force  always  there,  you  are  in  comparative 
safety.  But,  my  dear  child,  who  are  these  frightful  Rooneys,  with 
the  odious  house  where  all  this  gambling  and  ruin  goes  forward  ? 
How  feelingly  poor  Lord  Dudley  spoke  of  the  trials  young  men  are 
exposed  to !  His  parents  have  indeed  a  treasure  in  him.  Rooney 
appears  to  be  a  money-lender,  a  usurer,  —  most  probably  a  Jew. 
His  wretched  wife,  what  can  she  be  ?  And  that  designing  minx, 
niece,  daughter,  or  whatever  this  Miss  Belloo  (what  a  shocking  name  !) 
may  be!  To  think  you  should  have  fallen  among  such  people  !  Lord 
George's  debts  are,  they  say,  very  considerable,  all  owing,  as  he  as- 
sures me,  to  his  unfortunate  acquaintance  with  this  Rooney,  with 
whom  he  appears  to  have  had  bill  transactions  for  some  time  past. 
If  your  difficulties  were  only  on  the  score  of  money  I  should  think 
little  of  it ;  but  a  quarrelsome,  rancorous  spirit,  a  taste  for  low  com- 
pany and  vulgar  associates,  and  a  tendency  to  drink,  —  these,  indeed, 
are  very  shocking  features,  and  calculated  to  inflict  much  misery  on 
your  parents. 

"  However,  let  us,  as  far  as  possible,  endeavor  to  repair  the  mis- 
hap. I  write  by  this  post  to  this  Mr.  Rooney,  requesting  him  to 
send  in  his  account  to  your  father,  and  that  in  future  any  dinners  or 
wine  you  may  have  at  his  house  will  not  be  paid  for,  as  you  are  under 
age.  I  shall  also  let  him  know  that  the  obscurity  of  his  rank  in  life, 
and  the  benighted  state  of  the  country  he  lives  in,  shall  prove  no 
safeguard  to  him  from  our  vigilance  ;  and  as  the  chancellor  dines 
with  us  to-morrow,  I  think  of  asking  him  if  he  could  n't  be  punished 
in  some  way.  Transportation,  they  tell  me,  has  already  nearly  got 
rid  of  the  gypsies.  As  for  yourself,  make  your  arrangements  to  re- 
turn immediately  ;  for  although  your  father  knows  nothing  about  it, 
I  intend  to  ask  Sir  Henry  Gordon  to  call  on  the  Duke  of  York  and 
contrive  an  exchange  for  you.  How  I  hate  this  secret  adviser  of 
yours !  how  I  detest  the  Rooneys  !  how  I  abhor  the  Irish !  You 
have  only  to  come  back  with  long  hair  and  the  frightful  accent,  to 
break  the  heart  of  your  affectionate  but  afflicted  mother. 

"  Your  cousin  Julia  desires  her  regards.  I  must  say  she  has  not  shown 
a  due  respect  to  my  feelings  since  the  arrival  of  this  sad  intelligence ; 
it  is  only  this  minute  she  has  finished  a  caricature  of  you  making  love 
to  a  wild  Irish  girl  with  wings.  This  is  not  only  cruel  towards  me, 
but  an  unbecoming  sarcasm  towards  a  wretched  people,  to  whom  the 
visitations  of  Providence  should  not  be  made  matters  of  reproach." 

Thus  concluded  this  famous  epistle,  at  which,  notwith- 
standing that  every  line  offended  me  deeply,  I  could  not 


152  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

refrain  from  bursting  into  laughter.  My  opinion  of  Lord 
Dudley  had  certainly  not  been  of  the  highest ;  but  yet  was 
I  totally  unprepared  for  the  apparent  depth  of  villany  his 
character  possessed.  But  I  knew  not  then  how  strong  an 
alloy  of  cunning  exists  in  every  fool ;  and  how,  almost  in- 
variably, a  narrow  intellect  and  a  malevolent  disposition 
are  associated  in  the  same  individual. 

There  is  no  prejudice  more  popular,  nor  is  there  any 
which  is  better  worth  refuting,  than  that  which  attributes 
to  folly  certain  good  qualities  of  heart  as  a  kind  of  com- 
pensation for  the  deficiency  in  those  of  the  head.  Now, 
although  there  are  of  course  instances  to  the  contrary,  yet 
will  the  fact  be  found  generally  true  that  mediocrity  of 
mind  has  its  influence  in  producing  a  mischievous  disposi- 
tion. Unable  to  carry  on  any  lengthened  chain  of  reason- 
ing, the  man  of  narrow  intellect  looks  for  some  immediate 
result ;  and  in  his  anxiety  to  attain  his  object,  forgetful  of 
the  value  of  both  character  and  credit,  he  is  prepared  to 
sacrifice  the  whole  game  of  life  provided  he  secure  but  the 
odd  trick.  Besides,  the  very  insufficiency  of  his  resources 
leads  him  out  of  himself  for  his  enjoyments  and  his  occu- 
pations. Watching,  therefore,  the  game  of  life,  he  gradu- 
ally acquires  a  certain  low  and  underhand  cunning,  which, 
being  mistaken  by  himself  for  ability,  he  omits  no  occasion 
to  display ;  and  hence  begins  the  petty  warfare  of  malice 
he  wages  against  the  world  with  all  the  spiteful  ingenuity 
and  malevolence  of  a  monkey. 

I  could  trace  through  all  my  mother's  letter  the  dexterity 
with  which  Lord  Dudley  avoided  committing  himself  re- 
specting me,  while  his  delicacy  regarding  O'Grady's  name 
was  equally  conspicuous  to  a  certain  extent.  He  might 
have  been  excused  if  he  bore  no  good-will  to  one  or  other 
of  us ;  but  what  could  palliate  his  ingratitude  to  the 
Booneys  ?  What  could  gloss  over  the  base  return  he 
made  them  for  all  their  hospitalities  and  attention  ?  —  for 
nothing  was  more  clear  than  that  the  light  in  which  he 
represented  them  to  my  mother  made  them  appear  as  low 
and  intriguing  adventurers- 


THE   LETTER   FROM   HOME.  153 

This  was  all  bad  enough ;  but  what  should  I  say  of  the 
threatened  letter  to  them  ?  In  what  a  position  would  it 
place  me  before  those  who  had  been  uniformly  kind  and 
good-natured  towards  me !  The  very  thought  of  this 
nearly  drove  me  to  distraction,  and  I  confess  it  was  in  no 
dutiful  mood  I  crushed  up  the  epistle  in  my  hand,  and 
walked  my  room  in  an  agony  of  shame  and  vexation- 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    MORXING   IN    TOWN*. 

The  morning  after  the  receipt  of  the  letter  the  contents 
of  which  I  have  in  part  made  known  to  the  reader,  O'Grady 
called  on  me  to  accompany  him  into  the  city. 

"  I  am  on  a  borrowing  expedition,  Jack,"  cried  he  ;  "  and 
there  's  nothing  like  having  a  new  face  with  one.  Caven- 
dish, Hopeton,  and  the  rest  of  them  are  so  well-known  it 's 
of  no  use  having  them.  But  you,  my  boy,  you  're  fresh ; 
your  smooth  chin  does  not  look  like  a  protested  bill,  and 
you  've  got  a  degage,  careless  manner,  a  kind  of  unsuspi- 
cious look  about  you,  a  man  never  has  after  a  bailiff  has 
given  him  an  epaulette  of  five  dirty  fingers." 

"  But,  Phil,"  said  I,  "  if  you  really  want  money  —  " 
"My  very  excellent  young  friend,"  interrupted  he,  in  a 
kind  of  sermon  voice,  "  don't  finish  it,  I  beseech  you  ;  that 
is  the  very  last  thing  in  the  way  of  exchequer  a  gentleman 
is  ever  driven  to,  —  borrowing  from  a  friend.  Heaven 
forbid  !  But  even  supposing  the  case  that  one's  friend  has 
money,  why,  the  presumption  is  that  he  must  have  bor- 
rowed it  himself ;  so  that  you  are  sponging  upon  his  in- 
genuity, not  his  income.  Besides,  why  riddle  one's  own 
ships,  while  there  is  an  enemy  before  us  to  fight  ?  Please 
to  remember  the  money-lenders,  the  usurers,  the  stock- 
broking  knaves  at  fifty  per  cent  that  the  world  is  glutted 
with:  these  are  the  true  game  for  a  sporting  gentleman, 
who  would  rather  harpoon  a  shark  any  day  than  spear  a 
salmon." 

"  But  what 's  become  of  Paul  ?     Is  he  not  available  ?  " 
"  Don't  you  know  what  has  happened  there  ?     But  I  was 
forgetting  you  've  kept  the  house  this  week  past.     In  the 


A  MORNING  IN  TOWN.  155 

first  place,  La  Belle  Louise  has  gone  home  ;  Paul  has  taken 
his  departure  for  the  circuit ;  and  Mrs.  Paul,  after  three 
days'  sharp  hysterics,  has  left  town  for  her  villa,  near 
Bray,  —  old  Harvey  finding  it  doubtless  more  convenient 
to  visit  her  there,  with  twenty  guineas  for  his  fee,  than  to 
receive  one  for  his  call  at  Stephen's  Green." 

"  And  what  is  supposed  to  be  the  cause  of  all  this  ?  " 
said  I,  scarce  able  to  conceal  my  agitation. 

"  The  report  goes,"  replied  he,  "  that  some  bank  has 
broke  in  Calcutta  or  the  Caucasus,  or  somewhere ;  or  that 
some  gold-mine  in  Peru,  in  which  Paul  had  a  share,  has  all 
turned  out  to  be  only  plated  goods,  —  for  it  was  on  the 
receipt  of  a  letter,  on  the  very  morning  of  Paul's  depar- 
ture, that  she  took  so  dangerously  ill ;  and  as  Paul  in  his 
confusion  brought  the  attorney  instead  of  the  surgeon- 
general,  the  case  became  alarming,  and  they  gave  her  so 
much  ether  and  sal  volatile  that  it  required  the  united 
strength  of  the  family  to  keep  her  from  ascending  like  a 
balloon.  However,  the  worst  of  it  all  is,  the  house  is  shut, 
the  windows  closed ;  and  where  lately  on  the  door-steps  a 
pair  of  yellow-plush  breeches  figured  bright  and  splendent 
as  the  glorious  sun,  a  dusky-looking  planet  in  threadbare 
black  now  informs  you  that  the  family  are  from  home,  and 
not  expected  back  for  the  summer." 

"Perhaps  I  can  explain  the  mystery,"  said  I,  as  a  blush 
of  shame  burned  on  my  cheek.     "  Read  this." 

So  saying,  I  handed  O'Grady  the  letter,  doubled  down 
at  the  part  where  Lord  Dudley's  mention  of  the  Rooneys 
began.  Grieved  as  I  felt  thus  to  expose  the  absurd  folly 
of  my  mother's  conduct,  yet  I  felt  the  necessity  of  having 
at  least  one  friend  to  advise  with,  and  that,  to  render  his 
counsel  of  any  value,  a  perfect  candor  on  my  part  was 
equally  imperative. 

While  his  eye  glanced  over  the  lines,  I  walked  towards 
the  window,  expecting  at  each  moment  some  open  burst  of 
indignation  would  escape  him,  some  outbreak  of  passionate 
warmth,  at  the  cold-blooded  ingratitude  and  malevolence  of 
one  whom  previously  we  had  regarded  but  as  a  fool.     Not 


156  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

so ;  on  the  contrary,  lie  read  the  letter  to  the  end  with  an 
unchanged  countenance,  folded  it  up  with  great  composure, 
and  then  turning  his  back  to  the  fire,  he  burst  out  into  a  fit 
of  the  most  immoderate  laughter. 

"Look  ye,  Jack,"  cried  he,  in  a  voice  almost  suffocated 
with  the  emotion,  "  I  am  a  poor  man,  have  scarcely  a  guinea 
I  can  call  my  own ;  yet  I  'd  have  given  the  best  hack  in  my 
stable  to  have  seen  the  Rooneys  reading  that  letter.  There, 
there !  don't  talk  to  me,  boy,  about  villany,  ingratitude,  and 
so  forth,  —  the  fun  of  it,  man,  covers  all  the  rest.  Only  to 
think  of  Mr.  Paul  Rooney,  the  Amphytrion  of  viceroys, 
chancellors,  bishops,  major-generals,  and  lord-mayors,  asked 
for  his  bill,  —  to  score  up  all  your  champagne  and  your 
curacpa,  your  turtle,  your  devilled  kidneys ;  all  the  heavy 
brigade  of  your  grand  dinners,  and  all  the  light  infantry  of 
luncheons,  breakfasts,  grilled  bones,  and  sandwiches !  The 
Lord  forgive  your  mother  for  putting  it  in  his  head !  My 
chalk  would  be  a  fearful  one,  not  to  speak  of  the  ugly  item 
of  '  cash  advanced.'  Oh,  it  '11  kill  me,  I  know  that !  Don't 
look  so  serious,  man !  you  may  live  fifty  years,  and  never 
have  so  good  a  joke  to  laugh  at.  Tell  me,  Jack,  do  you 
think  your  mother  has  kept  a  copy  of  the  letter  ?  I  would 
give  my  right  eye  for  it.  What  a  fearful  temper  Paul  will 
be  in,  on  circuit !  and  as  to  Mrs.  Rooney,  it  will  go  hard 
with  her  but  she  cuts  the  whole  aristocracy  for  at  least 
a  week.  There  never  was  anything  like  it.  To  hint  at 
transporting  the  Princess  O'Toole,  whose  ancestor  was 
here  in  the  time  of  Moses !  Ah,  Jack,  how  little  respect 
your  mother  appears  to  have  for  an  old  family !  She  evi- 
dently has  no  classical  associations  to  hallow  her  memory 
withal." 

"I  confess,"  said  I,  somewhat  tartly,  "had  I  anticipated 
the  spirit  with  which  you  have  taken  up  this  matter  I  doubt 
whether  I  should  have  shown  you  the  letter." 

"And  if  you  had  not,"  replied  he,  "I  'd  not  have  forgiven 
you  till  the  day  of  my  death.  Next  to  a  legacy,  a  good 
laugh  is  the  best  thing  I  know ;  indeed,  sometimes  it  is 
better,  for  you  can't  be  choused  out  of  it  by  your  lawyer." 


A   MORNING   IN   TOWN.  157 

"Laughing  is  a  very  excellent  practice  no  doubt,  but  I 
looked  for  some  advice  —  " 

"Advice.!  to  be  sure,  my  boy;  and  so  you  shall  have  it. 
Only  give  me  a  good  training  canter  of  a  hearty  laugh,  and 
you  '11  see  what  running  I  '11  make  when  it  comes  to  sound 
discretion  afterwards.  The  fun  of  a  man's  temperament  is 
like  the  froth  on  your  champagne ;  while  it  gives  a  zest  to 
the  liquor  of  life  by  its  lightness  and  its  sparkle,  it  neither 
detracts  from  the  flavor  nor  the  strength  of  the  beverage. 
At  the  same  time,  when  I  begin  to  froth  up  don't  expect 
me  to  sober  down  before  twenty-four  hours.  So  take  your 
hat,  come  along  into  town,  and  thank  your  stars  that  you 
have  been  able  to  delight  the  heart  of  a  man  who  's  trying 
to  get  a  bill  discounted.  Now,  hear  me,  Jack,"  said  he,  as 
we  descended  the  stairs ;  "  if  you  expect  me  to  conduct  my- 
self with  becoming  gravity  and  decorum,  you  had  better 
avoid  any  mention  of  the  Eooneys  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
And  now  a  Vouvrage." 

As  we  proceeded  down  Dame  Street  my  friend  scienti- 
fically explained  to  me  the  various  modes  there  were  of 
obtaining  money  on  loan. 

"  I  don't  speak,"  said  he,  "  of  those  cases  where  a  man 
has  landed  security,  or  property  of  one  kind  or  other,  or 
even  expectations,  because  all  these  are  easy,  —  the  mere 
rule  of  three  in  financial  arithmetic.  What  I  mean  are  the 
decimal  fractions  of  a  man's  difficulties,  when,  with  as  many 
writs  against  him  as  would  make  a  carpet  for  his  bed-room, 
he  can  still  go  out  with  an  empty  pocket  in  the  morning 
and  come  back  with  it  furnished  at  night.  And  now  to 
begin.  The  maxims  of  the  sporting  world  are  singularly 
applicable  to  the  practice  before  us.  You  're  told  that  be- 
fore you  enter  a  preserve  your  first  duty  is  to  see  that  your 
gun  is  properly  loaded,  —  all  the  better  if  it  be  a  double- 
barrelled  one.  Now,  look  here,"  —  as  he  spoke  he  drew 
from  his  sabretache  five  bills  for  one  hundred  pounds  each ; 
"  you  see  I  am  similarly  prepared.  The  game  may  get  up 
at  any  moment,  and  not  find  me  at  half-cock ;  and  although 
I  only  go  out  for  a  single  bird,  —  that  is,  but  one  hundred, 


158  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

—  yet  if  by  good  luck  I  flush  a  covey,  you  see  I  am  ready 
for  them  all.  The  doctrine  of  chances  shows  us  that  five 
to  one  is  better  than  an  even  bet;  so  by  scattering  these 
five  bills  in  different  directions,  the  odds  are  exactly  so 
many  in  my  favor  that  I  raise  a  hundred  somewhere." 
"  And  now,"  said  I,  "  where  does  the  game  lie  ?  " 
"  I  'in  coming  to  that,  Jack.  Your  rich  preserves  are  all 
ibout  the  neighborhood  of  Clare  Street,  Park  Street,  Mer- 
rion  Street,  and  that  direction.  With  them,  alas !  I  have 
nothing  to  do.  My  broad  acres  have  long  since  taken 
wings  to  themselves ;  and  I  fear  a  mortgage  upon  Mount 
O'Grady,  as  it  at  present  exists,  would  be  a  poor  remedy 
for  an  empty  pocket.  The  rich  money-lenders  despise  poor 
devils  like  me ;  they  love  not  contingencies,  and,  as  Mac- 
beth says,  'they  have  no  speculation  in  their  eyes.'  For 
them,  my  dear  Jack,  you  must  have  messuages  and  tene- 
ments and  out-houses,  townlands  and  turbaries,  corn,  cattle, 
and  cottages,  pigs,  potatoes,  and  peasantry.  They  love  to 
let  their  eyes  range  over  a  rich  and  swelling  scene  of  wood- 
land and  prairie,  for  they  are  the  landscape  gardeners  of 
usury,  they  are  the  Hobbimas  and  Berghems  of  the  law. 

"Others  again,  of  smaller  range  and  humbler  practice, 
there  are,  to  whom  upon  occasion  you  assign  your  grand- 
father's plate  and  the  pictures  of  your  grand-aunts  for  cer- 
tain monied  conveniences  you  stand  in  need  of.  These  are 
a  kind  of  Brobdignag  pawnbrokers,  who  have  fine  houses, 
the  furniture  of  which  is  everlastingly  changing,  each  credi- 
tor sending  his  representative  like  a  minister  to  a  foreign 
court ;  with  them,  also,  I  have  nothing  to  do.  The  family 
have  had  so  little  to  eat  for  the  last  two  generations  that 
they  trouble  themselves  but  slightly  on  the  score  of  sil- 
ver dishes ;  and  as  to  pictures,  I  possess  but  one  in  the 
world,  —  a  portrait  of  my  father  in  his  wig  and  robes. 
This,  independent  of  other  reasons,  I  couldn't  part  with,  as 
it  is  one  of  the  only  means  I  possess  of  controlling  Corny 
when  his  temper  becomes  more  than  usually  untractable. 
Upon  these  occasions  I  hang  up  the  *  jidge '  over  the 
chimney-piece,  and  the  talisman  has  never  failed  yet. 


A  MORNING  IN  TOWN.  159 

"Now,  Jack,  my  constituency  live  about  Fleet  Street, 
and  those  small,  obscure,  dingy-looking  passages  that 
branch  from  it  on  either  side.  Here  live  a  class  of  men 
who  having"  begun  life  as  our  servants  or  valets  are  in  per- 
fect possession  of  all  our  habits  of  life,  our  wants,  and  our 
necessities.  Having  amassed  enough  by  retail  robbery  of 
us  while  in  our  service  to  establish  some  petty  tavern  or 
some  low  livery-stable,  they  end  by  cheating  us  wholesale 
for  the  loan  of  our  own  money  at  their  own  rate  of  interest. 
Well  aware  that  however  deferred  we  must  pay  eventually, 
they  are  satisfied  —  good,  easy  souls  !  —  to  renew  and  re- 
new bills,  whose  current  percentage  varies  from  five-and- 
twenty  to  forty.  And  even  notwithstanding  all  this, 
Jack,  they  are  difficult  devils  to  deal  with,  —  any  appear- 
ance of  being  hard-up,  any  show  of  being  out-at-elbows, 
rendering  a  negotiation  as  difficult  as  the  assurance  of  a 
condemned  ship  for  a  China  voyage.  No,  my  boy ;  though 
your  house  be  besieged  by  duns,  though  in  every  passenger 
you  see  a  bailiff,  and  never  nap  after  dinner  without  dream- 
ing of  the  Marshalsea,  yet  still,  the  very  moment  you  cross 
the  precincts  of  their  dwelling  you  must  put  your  care 
where  your  cash  ought  to  be,  —  in  your  pocket.  You  must 
wear  the  easy  smile  of  a  happy  conscience,  and  talk  of  your 
want  of  a  few  hundreds  as  though  it  were  a  question  of  a 
pinch  of  snuff  or  a  glass  of  brandy-and-water,  while  you 
agree  to  the  exorbitant  demands  they  exact  with  the  care- 
less indifference  of  one  to  whom  money  is  no  object,  rather 
than  with  the  despair  of  a  wretch  who  looks  for  no  benefit 
in  life  save  in  the  act  for  insolvent  debtors.  This  you  '11  say 
is  a  great  bore,  and  so  I  once  thought  too ;  now,  however,  I 
have  got  somewhat  used  to  it,  and  sometimes  don't  actually 
dislike  the  fun.  Why,  man,  I  have  been  at  it  for  three 
months  at  a  time.  I  remember  when  I  never  blew  ray  nose 
without  pulling  out  a  writ  along  with  my  pocket-handker- 
chief, and  I  never  was  in  better  spirits  in  all  my  life.  —  But 
here  we  are.  This  is  Billy  Fagan's, a  well-known  dry-salter; 
you  '11  have  to  wait  for  me  in  the  front  parlor  for  a  moment 
while  I  negotiate  with  Billy." 


160  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Elbowing  our  way  through  a  squalid  and  miserable- 
looking  throng  of  people  that  filled  the  narrow  hall  of  a 
house  in  Fleet  Street,  we  forced  on  till  we  reached  an  inner 
door  in  which  a  sliding  panel  permitted  those  within  to 
communicate  with  others  on  the  outside.  Tapping  at  this 
with  his  cane,  O'Grady  called  out  something  which  I  could 
not  catch ;  the  panel  at  once  flew  back,  a  red  carbuncled 
face  appeared  at  the  opening,  the  owner  of  which  with  a 
grin  of  very  peculiar  signification,  exclaimed,  — 
"  Ah,  it 's  yourself,  Captain  ?  Walk  in,  sir." 
With  these  words  the  door  was  opened,  and  we  were  ad- 
mitted into  the  inner  hall.  This  was  also  crowded,  but 
with  a  different  class  from  what  I  had  seen  without. 
These  were  apparently  men  in  business,  shopkeepers  and 
traders,  who,  reduced  by  some  momentary  pressure  to  ef- 
fect a  loan,  were  content  to  prop  up  their  tottering  credit 
by  sapping  the  very  core  of  their  prosperity,  —  unlike  the 
others,  on  whom  habitual  poverty  and  daily  misery  had 
stamped  its  heavy  impress,  and  whose  faces  too,  inured  to 
suffering,  betrayed  no  shame  at  being  seen.  These,  on  the 
contrary,  looked  downward  or  aside ;  seemed  impatient, 
fretful,  and  peevish,  and  indicated  in  a  hundred  ways  how 
unused  they  were  to  exigencies  of  this  nature,  muttering  to 
themselves  in  angry  mood  at  being  detained,  and  feigning 
a  resolution  to  depart  at  every  moment.  O'Grady,  after  a 
conference  of  a  few  moments  with  the  rubicund  Cerberus 
I  have  mentioned,  beckoned  to  me  to  follow  him.  We  pro- 
ceeded accordingly  up  a  narrow  creaking  stair,  into  a  kind 
of  front  drawing-room,  in  which  about  a  dozen  persons 
were  seated,  or  listlessly  lounging  in  every  imaginable  at- 
titude, —  some  on  chairs,  some  on  the  window-sills,  some  on 
the  tables,  and  one  even  on  the  mantlepiece,  with  his  legs 
gracefully  dangling  in  front  of  the  fire.  Perfectly  distinct 
from  the  other  two  classes  I  have  mentioned,  these  were 
all  young  men,  whose  dress,  look,  and  bearing  bespoke 
them  of  rank  and  condition.  Chatting  away  gayly,  laugh- 
ing, joking,  and  telling  good  stories,  they  seemed  but  little 
to  care  for  the  circumstances  which  brought  them  there; 


A   MORNING   IN  TOWN. 


1G1 


and  while  they  quizzed  one  another  about  their  various 
debts  and  difficulties  seemed  to  think  want  of  money  as 
about  the  YeiT  uest  joke  a  gentleman  could  laugh  at.  By 
all  these  0' Grady  was  welcomed  with  a  burst  of  applause, 
as  they  eagerly  pressed  forward  to  shake  hands  with  him. 


"  I  say,  0' Grady,"  cried  one,  "  we  muster  strong  this 
morning.  I  hope  Fagan's  bank  will  stand  the  run  on  it. 
What 's  your  figure  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  couple  of  hundred,"  said  Phil,  carelessly ;  "  I  have 
got  rather  a  heavy  book  on  the  steeple-chase." 

"  So  I  hear,"  said  another ;  "  and  they  say  Ulick  Burke 
won't  ride  for  you.  He  knows  no  one  can  sit  the  horse  but 
himself ;  and  Maher,  the  story  goes,  has  given  him  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  to  leave  you  in  the  lurch  ! " 

"  How  good !  "  said  Phil,  smiling ;  for  although  this  in- 
telligence came  upon  him  thus  suddenly,  he  never  evinced 
the  slightest  surprise  nor  the  most  trifling  irritation. 
vol.  i.  — 11 


162  JACK    HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  You  '11  pay  forfeit,  of  course,  Phil,"  said  the  gentleman 
on  the  chimney. 

"  I  fancy  not." 

"Then  will  you  take  two  fifties  to  one,  against  your 
horse  ?  " 

"  Will  you  give  it  ?  "  was  the  cool  reply. 

"Yes." 

"  And  I  —  and  I  also,"  said  different  voices  round  the 
room. 

"  Agreed,  gentlemen,  with  all  of  you.  So,  if  you  please, 
we  '11  book  this.     Jack,  have  you  got  a  pencil  ?  " 

As  I  drew  forth  my  pocket-book  I  could  not  help  whis- 
pering to  O'Grady  that  there  seemed  something  like  a  coali- 
tion among  his  opponents.  Before  I  could  conclude,  the  red 
face  appeared  at  the  door.  O'Grady  hastily  muttered,  "  Wait 
for  me  here,"  and  left  the  room. 

During  his  absence  I  had  abundant  time  to  study  those 
about  me.  Indeed,  a  perfect  sameness  in  their  characters 
as  in  their  pursuits  rendered  it  an  easy  process ;  for  as  with 
unguarded  frankness  they  spoke  of  their  several  difficulties, 
their  stories  presented  one  uniform  feature, — reckless  ex- 
penditure and  wasteful  extravagance,  with  limited  means 
and  encumbered  fortunes.  They  had  passed  through  every 
phase  of  borrowing,  every  mode  of  raising  money,  and  were 
now  reduced  to  the  last  rung  of  the  ladder  of  expediency,  — 
to  become  the  prey  of  the  usurer,  who  meted  out  to  them  a 
few  more  months  of  extravagance,  at  the  cost  of  many  a 
future  year  of  sorrow  and  repining. 

I  was  beginning  to  grow  impatient  as  the  door  gently 
opened,  and  I  saw  my  friend,  as  he  emerged  from  the  back 
drawing-room.  Without  losing  a  moment's  time  I  joined 
him.  We  descended  the  stairs  together,  and  walked  out 
into  the  street. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  pickled  herrings,  Jack  ?  "  said  O'Grady, 
as  he  took  my  arm. 

"  Pickled  herrings  !  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Probably,"  resumed  he,  in  the  same  dry  tone  of  voice, 
"  you  prefer  ash-bark,  or  assafoetida  ?  " 


A  MORNING  IN  TOWN.  163 

"  Why,  I  can't  say." 

"  Ah,  my  boy,  you  're  difficult  to  please,  then  !  What  do 
you  say  to  whale  oil  and  Welch  wigs  ?  " 

"  Confound  me  if  I  understand  you  !  " 

"  Nothing  more  easy  after  all,  for  of  each  of  these  com- 
modities I  'm  now  a  possessor  to  the  amount  of  some  two 
hundred  and  twenty  pounfls.  You  look  surprised,  but  such 
is  the  nature  of  our  transactions  here  ;  and  for  my  bill  of 
five  hundred,  payable  in  six  months,  I  have  become  a  gen- 
eral merchant  to  the  extent  I've  told  you,  not  to  mention 
paying  eighty  more  for  a  certain  gig  and  horse,  popularly 
knOwn  in  this  city  as  the  discount  dennet.  This,"  con- 
tinued he  with  a  sigh,  "  is  about  the  tenth  time  I  've  been  the 
owner  of  that  vile  conveyance ;  for  you  must  know  when- 
ever Fagan  advances  a  good  round  sum  he  always  insists 
upon  something  of  this  kind  forming  part  of  it ;  and  thus, 
according  to  the  figure  of  your  loan,  you  may  drive  from  his 
door  in  anything,  from  a  wheel-barrow  to  a  stage-coach.  As 
for  the  discount  dennet,  it  is  as  well  known  as  the  black- 
cart  that  conveys  the  prisoners  to  Newgate,  and  the  repu- 
tation of  him  who  travels  in  either  is  pretty  much  on  a 
par.  From  the  crank  of  the  rusty  springs  to  the  limping 
amble  of  the  malicious  old  black  beast  in  the  shafts,  the 
whole  thing  has  a  look  of  beggary  about  it.  Every  jingle 
of  the  ragged  harness  seems  to  whisper  in  your  ear,  '  Fifty 
per  cent ; '  and  drive  which  way  you  will,  it  is  impossible 
to  get  free  of  the  notion  that  you're  not  trotting  along  the 
road  to  ruin.  To  have  been  seen  in  it  once  is  as  though  you 
had  figured  in  the  pillory,  and  the  very  fact  of  its  being  in 
your  possession  is  a  blow  of  a  battering-ram  to  your  credit 
forever !  " 

"  But  why  venture  into  it  ?  If  you  must  have  it,  let  it 
be  like  the  pickled  herrings  and  the  paving-stones,  —  so 
much  of  pure  loss." 

"  The  fact  is,  Jack,  it  is  generally  passed  off  on  a  young 
hand  the  first  time  he  raises  money.  He  knows  little  of  the 
town,  less  of  its  secret  practices,  and  not  until  he  has  fur- 
nished a  hearty  laugh  to  all  his  acquaintances  does  he  dis- 


164 


JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


cover  the  blunder  he  has  committed.  Besides,  sometimes 
you  're  hard  up  for  something  to  bring  you  about.  I  re- 
member once  keeping  it  an  entire  winter ;  and  as  I  painted 
Latitat  a  good  piebald,  and  had  his  legs  white-washed  every 


morning,  few  recognized  him,  except  such  as  had  paid  for 
their  acquaintance.  After  this  account,  probably,  you'll 
not  like  to  drive  with  me ;  but  as  I  am  going  to  Loughrea 
for  the  race,  I  've  determined  to  take  the  dennet  down,  and 
try  if  I  can't  find  a  purchaser  among  the  country  gentle- 
men. —  And  now  let 's  think  of  dinner.  What  do  you  say 
to  a  cutlet  at  the  club,  and  perhaps  we  shall  strike  oat 
something  there  to  finish  our  evening  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AN   EVENING   IN   TOWN. 

We  dined  at  the  club-house,  and  sat  chatting  over  our 
wine  till  near  ten  o'clock.  The  events  of  the  morning  were 
our  principal  topics ;  for  although  I  longed  myself  to  turn 
the  conversation  to  the  Rooneys,  I  was  deterred  from  doing 
so  by  the  fear  of  another  outbreak  of  O'Grady's  mirth. 
Meanwhile,  the  time  rolled  on,  and  rapidly  too;  for  my 
companion,  with  an  earnestness  of  manner  and  a  force  of 
expression  I  little  knew  he  possessed,  detailed  to  me  many 
anecdotes  of  his  own  early  career.  From  these  I  could 
glean  that  while  O'Grady  suffered  himself  to  be  borne 
along  the  current  of  dissipation  and  excess,  yet  in  his  heart 
he  repudiated  the  life  he  led,  and  when  a  moment  of  re- 
flection came,  felt  sorrow  for  the  past  and  but  little  hope 
for  the  future. 

"Yes,  Jack,"  said  he,  on  concluding  a  narrative  of  con- 
tinual family  misfortune,  "  there  would  seem  a  destiny  in 
these  things ;  and  if  we  look  about  us  in  the  world  we  can- 
not fail  to  see  that  families,  like  individuals,  have  their 
budding  spring  of  youth  and  hope,  their  manhood  of  pride 
and  power,  and  their  old  age  of  feebleness  and  decay.  As 
for  myself,  I  am  about  the  last  branch  of  an  old  tree,  and 
all  my  endeavor  lias  been  to  seem  green  and  cheerful  to  the 
last.  My  debts  have  hung  about  my  neck  all  through  life ; 
the  extravagances  of  my  early  years  have  sat  like  a  mill- 
stone upon  me ;  and  I  who  began  the  world  with  a  heart 
brimful  of  hope,  and  a  soul  bounding  with  ambition,  have 
lingered  on  my  path  like  a  truant  schoolboy.  And  here  I 
am,  at  the  age  of  three-and-thirty,  without  having  realized 
a  single  promise  of  my  boyhood,  the  poorest  of  all  imagin- 


166  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

able  things,  —  a  gentleman  without  fortune,  a  soldier  with- 
out service,  a  man  of  energy  without  hope." 

"  But  why,  Phil,"  said  I,  "  how  comes  it  that  you  never 
went  out  to  the  Peninsula  ?  " 

"  Alas,  my  boy  !  from  year  to  year  I  have  gone  on  ex- 
pecting my  gazette  to  a  regiment  on  service.  Too  poor  to 
purchase,  too  proud  to  solicit,  I  have  waited  in  anxious  ex- 
pectancy from  some  of  those  with  whom,  high  as  was  their 
station,  I've  lived  on  terms  of  intimacy  and  friendship, 
that  notice  they  extended  to  others  less  known  than  I  was ; 
but  somehow  the  temperament  that  would  seem  to  consti- 
tute my  happiness  has  proved  my  bane,  and  those  qualities 
which  have  made  me  a  boon  companion  have  left  me  a  beg- 
gar. Handed  over  from  one  viceroy  to  another,  like  a 
state-trumpeter  or  a  butt  of  sherry,  I  have  been  left  to  lin- 
ger out  my  best  years  a  kind  of  court-jester,  — my  only  re- 
ward being,  the  hour  of  merriment  over,  that  they  who 
laughed  with  should  laugh  at  me." 

There  was  a  tone  of  almost  ferocity  in  the  way  he  spoke 
these  words  ;  while  the  trembling  lip,  the  flashing  eye,  and 
the  swollen  veins  of  his  temple  betrayed  that  the  very  bit- 
terest of  all  human  emotions  —  self-scorn  —  was  racking 
his  heart  within  him. 

Por  sometime  we  were  both  silent.  Had  I  even  known 
what  to  say  at  such  a  moment,  there  was  that  comfortless 
expression  about  his  face,  that  look  of  riveted  despair, 
which  would  have  rendered  any  effort  on  my  part  to  con- 
sole him  a  vain  and  presumptuous  folly. 

"But,  come,  Jack,"  said  he,  filling  his  glass  and  pushing 
over  the  decanter  to  me,  "  I  have  learned  to  put  little  faith 
in  patrons ;  and  although  the  information  has  been  long  in 
acquiring,  still  it  has  come  at  last,  and  I  am  determined  to 
profit  by  it.  I  am  now  endeavoring  to  raise  a  little  money 
to  pay  off  the  most  pressing  of  my  creditors,  and  have 
made  an  application  to  the  Horse  Guards  to  be  appointed 
to  any  regiment  on  service,  wherever  it  may  be.  If  both 
these  succeed,  and  it  is  necessary  both  should,  then,  Jack, 
I  '11  try  a  new  path ;  and  even  though  it  lead  to  nothing, 


AN   EVENING   IN  TOWN.  167 

yet  at  least  it  will  be  a  more  manly  one  to  follow.  And  if 
I  am  to  linger  on  to  that  period  of  life  when  to  look  back  is 
nearly  all  that's  left  us,  —  why,  then,  the  retrospect  will 
be  less  dashed  with  shame  than  with  such  a  career  as  this 
is.  Meanwhile,  my  boy,  the  decanter  is  with  you ;  so  fill 
your  glass,  1  '11  join  you  presently." 

As  he  spoke  ,  O'Grady  sprang  up  and  walked  to  the  other 
end  of  the  room,  where  a  party  of  some  half-dozen  persons 
were  engaged  in  putting  on  great-coats  and  buttoning  up 
previous  to  departure.  In  an  instant  I  could  hear  his 
voice  high  above  the  rest,  —  that  cheerful  ringing  tone  that 
seemed  the  very  tocsin  of  a  happy  heart,  —  while  at  some 
observation  he  made  the  whole  party  around  him  were  con- 
vulsed with  laughter.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  he  drew  one 
of  them  aside,  and  conversing  eagerly  with  him  for  a  few 
seconds,  pointed  to  me  as  he  spoke. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord,  thank  you,"  said  he,  as  he  turned 
away.  "  I  '11  be  answerable  for  my  friend.  —  Now,  Hinton," 
whispered  he,  as  he  leaned  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder  and 
bent  over  me,  "  we  're  in  luck  to-night,  at  all  events  ;  for  I 
have  just  got  permission  to  bring  you  with  me  where  I  am 
to  spend  the  evening.  It 's  no  small  favor  if  you  knew  but 
all ;  so  finish  your  wine,  for  my  friends  there  are  moving 
already." 

All  my  endeavors  to  ascertain  where  we  were  going,  or  to 
whose  house,  were  in  vain  ;  the  only  thing  I  could  learn  was 
that  my  admission  was  a  prodigious  favor,  while  to  satisfy 
my  scruples  about  dress  he  informed  me  that  no  change  of 
costume  was  necessary. 

"  I  perceive,"  said  O'Grady,  as  he  drew  the  curtain  and 
looked  out  into  the  street,  "  the  night  is  fine  and  star-light ; 
so  what  say  you  if  we  walk  ?  I  must  tell  you,  however, 
our  place  of  rendezvous  is  somewhat  distant." 

Agreeing  to  the  proposition  with  pleasure,  I  took  his  arm, 
and  we  sallied  forth  together.  Our  way  led  at  first  through 
a  most  crowded  and  frequented  part  of  the  capital.  We 
traversed  Dame  Street,  passed  by  the  Castle,  and  ascended 
a  steep  street  beyond  it ;  after  this  we  took  a  turning  to  the 


168  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

left,  and  entered  a  part  of  the  city  to  me  at  least  utterly 
unknown.  For  about  half  an  hour  we  continued  to  wander 
on,  now  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left,  the  streets  becoming 
gradually  narrower,  less  frequented,  and  less  lighted ;  the 
shops  were  all  closed,  and  few  persons  stirred  in  the  remote 
thoroughfares. 

"  I  fear  I  must  have  made  a  mistake,"  said  O'Grady,  "en- 
deavoring to  take  a  short  cut ;  but  here  comes  a  watchman. 
I  say,  is  this  Kevin  Street  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  the  second  turning  to  your  right  brings  you 
into  it." 

"Kevin  Street!"  said  I,  repeating  the  name  half  aloud 
to  myself. 

"  Yes,  Jack,  so  it  is  called ;  but  all  your  ingenuity  will 
prove  too  little  in  discovering  whither  you  are  going.  So 
come  along ;  leave  time  to  tell  you  what  guessing  never 
will." 

By  this  time  we  arrived  at  the  street  in  question,  when 
very  soon  after  O'Grady  called  out,  — 

"  All  right !  here  we  are." 

With  these  words  he  knocked  three  times  in  a  peculiar 
manner  at  the  door  of  a  large  and  gloomy-looking  house. 
An  ill-trimmed  lamp  threw  a  faint  and  flickering  light  upon 
the  old  and  ruined  building,  and  I  could  trace  here  and  there, 
through  all  the  wreck  of  time,  some  remnants  of  a  better 
day.  The  windows  now  however  were  broken  in  several 
places,  those  on  the  lower  story  being  defended  on  the  out- 
side by  a  strong  iron  railing ;  not  a  gleam  of  light  shone 
through  any  one  of  them,  but  a  darkness  unrelieved,  save 
by  the  yellow  gleam  of  the  street-lamp,  enveloped  the  entire 
building.  O'Grady's  summons  was  twice  repeated  ere  there 
seemed  any  chance  of  its  being  replied  to,  when  at  last  the 
step  of  a  heavy  foot  descending  the  stairs  announced  the 
approach  of  some  one.  While  I  continued  my  survey  of 
the  house  O'Grady  never  spoke,  and  perceiving  that  he 
made  a  mystery  of  our  visit  I  resolved  to  ask  no  further 
questions,  but  patiently  await  the  result:  my  impression, 
however,  was  that  the  place  was  the  resort  either  of  thieves 


AN   EVENING   IN   TOWN.  1G9 

or  of  some  illegal  association,  of  which  more  than  one  at 
that  time  were  known  to  have  their  meetings  in  the  capital. 
While  I  was  thus  occupied  in  my  conjectures,  and  wonder- 
ing within -myself  how  O'Grady  had  become  acquainted 
with  his  friends,  the  door  opened,  and  a  diminutive,  mean- 
looking  old  man,  shading  the  candle  with  his  hand,  stood 
at  the  entrance. 

"Good evening,  Mickey,"  cried  O'Grady,  as  he  brushed  by 
him  into  the  hall.     "  Are  they  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Captain,"  said  the  little  man,  as,  snuffing  the  long 
wick  with  his  fingers,  he  held  the  light  up  to  O'Grady's 
face,  —  "  Yes,  Captain,  about  fifteen." 

"  This  gentleman  's  with  me,  —  come  along,  Jack.  He  is 
my  friend,  Mickey." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  do  it  by  no  means,  Mister  Phil,"  said  the 
dwarf,  opposing  himself  as  a  barrier  to  my  entrance.  "  You 
know  what  they  said  the  last  night, "  —  here  he  strained 
himself  on  his  toes,  and,  as  O'Grady  stooped  down,  whis- 
pered some  words  I  couldn't  catch,  while  he  continued 
aloud,  —  "  and  you  know  after  that,  Captain,  I  dare  n't 
do  it." 

"  I  tell  you,  you  old  fool,  I  've  arranged  it  all ;  so  get 
along  there,  and  show  us  the  light  up  these  confounded 
stairs.  I  suppose  they  never  mended  the  hole  on  the 
lobby  ? " 

"Troth  they  didn't,"  growled  the  dwarf;  "and  it  would 
be  chaper  for  them  nor  breaking  their  shins  every  night." 

I  followed  O'Grady  up  the  stairs,  which  creaked  and  bent 
beneath  us  at  every  step ;  the  hand-rail,  broken  in  many 
places,  swung  to  and  fro  with  every  motion  of  the  stair, 
and  the  walls,  covered  with  green  and  damp  mould,  looked 
the  very  picture  of  misery  and  decay.  Still  grumbling  at 
the  breach  of  order  incurred  by  my  admission,  the  old  man 
shuffled  along  wheezing,  coughing,  and  cursing  between 
times,  till  at  length  we  reached  the  landing-place,  where 
the  hole  of  which  I  heard  them  speak  permitted  a  view  of 
the  hall  beneath.  Stepping  across  this,  we  entered  a  large 
room  lighted  by  a  lamp  upon  the  chimney-piece  ;    around 


170  JACK   HIXTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

the  walls  were  hung  a  variety  of  what  appeared  to  be  cloaks 
of  a  lightish  drab  color,  while  over  each  hung  a  small  skull- 
cap of  yellow  leather. 

"  Don't  you  hear  the  knocking  below,  Mickey  ?  There 's 
some  one  at  the  door,"  said  O'Grady. 

The  little  man  left  the  room,  and  as  we  were  now  alone  I 
expected  some  explanation  from  my  friend  as  to  the  place 
we  were  in,  and  the  people  who  frequented  it.  Not  so, 
however.  Phil  merely  detached  one  of  the  cloaks  from 
its  peg,  and  proceeded  to  invest  himself  in  its  folds ;  he 
placed  the  skull-cap  on  his  head,  after  which,  covering  the 
whole  with  a  hood,  he  fastened  the  garment  around  his 
waist  with  a  girdle  of  rope,  and  stood  before  me  the  per- 
fect picture  of  a  monk  of  St.  Benedict,  as  we  see  them 
represented  in  old  pictures,  —  the  only  irregularity  of  cos- 
tume being,  that,  instead  of  a  rosary,  the  string  from  his 
girdle  supported  a  cork-screw  and  a  horn-spoon  of  most 
portentous  proportions. 

"Come,  my  son,"  said  he,  reverently,  "indue  thy  gar- 
ment ; "  so  saying,  he  proceeded  to  clothe  me  in  a  similar 
manner,  after  which  he  took  a  patient  survey  of  me  for  a 
few  seconds.  "You'll  do  very  well;  wear  the  hood  well 
forward ;  and  mark  me,  Jack,  I  've  but  one  direction  to  give 
you,  —  never  speak  a  word,  not  a  syllable,  so  long  as  you 
remain  in  the  house ;  if  spoken  to,  cross  your  arms  thus 
upon  your  breast,  and  bow  your  head  in  this  manner.  Try 
that  —  Perfectly !  you  have  your  lesson ;  now,  don't 
forget  it." 

O'Grady  now,  with  his  arms  crossed  upon  his  bosom  and 
his  head  bent  slightly  forward,  walked  slowly  forth,  with  a 
solemn  gravity  well  befitting  his  costume.  Imitating  him 
as  well  as  I  was  able,  I  followed  him  up  the  stairs.  On 
reaching  the  second  landing,  he  tapped  twice  with  his 
knuckles  at  a  low  door,  whose  pointed  arch  and  iron  grating 
were  made  to  represent  the  postern  of  a  convent. 

"  Benedicite,"  said  Phil,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Et  tu  quoque,  f rater,"  responded  some  one  from  within, 
and  the  door  was  opened. 


AN  EVENING  IN  TOWN.  171 

Saluting  a  venerable-looking  figure,  who  with  a  long  gray 
beard  bowed  devoutly  as  we  passed,  we  entered  an  apart- 
ment, where,  so  sudden  was  the  change  from  what  I  had 
hitherto  seen,  I  could  scarcely  trust  my  eyes.  A  comforta- 
ble, well-carpeted  room,  with  curtained  windows,  cushioned 
chairs,  and,  not  least  inviting  of  all,  a  blazing  fire  of  wood 
upon  the  hearth,  were  objects  I  was  little  prepared  for ; 
but  I  had  little  time  to  note  them,  my  attention  being  di- 
rected with  more  curiosity  to  the  living  occupants  of  this 
strange  dwelling.  Some  fifteen  or  sixteen  persons,  cos- 
tumed like  ourselves,  either  walked  up  and  down  engaged 
in  conversation,  or  sat  in  little  groups  around  the  fire. 
Card-tables  there  were  in  different  parts  of  the  room,  but 
one  only  was  occupied.  At  this  a  party  of  reverend  fathers 
were  busily  occupied  at  whist.  In  the  corner  next  the  fire, 
seated  in  a  large  chair  of  carved  oak,  was  a  figure  whose 
air  and  bearing  bespoke  authority ;  the  only  difference  in 
his  costume  from  the  others  being  a  large  embroidered 
cork-screw,  which  he  wore  on  his  left  shoulder. 

"  Holy  Prior,  your  blessing,"  said  Phil,  bowing  obse- 
quiously before  him. 

"  You  have  it,  my  son :  much  good  may  it  do  you,"  re- 
sponded the  superior,  in  a  voice  which,  somehow  or  other, 
seemed  not  perfectly  new  to  me. 

While  O'Grady  engaged  in  a  whispered  conversation  with 
the  prior,  I  turned  my  eyes  towards  a  large-framed  paper 
which  hung  above  the  chimney.     It  ran  thus  :  — 

"Rules  and  regulations  to  be  observed  in  the  monastery  of  the 
venerable  and  pious  brothers,  the  Monks  of  the  Screw." 

Conceiving  it  scarcely  delicate  in  a  stranger  to  read  over 
the  regulations  of  a  Society  of  which  he  was  not  a  member, 
I  was  turning  away,  when  O'Grady,  seizing  me  by  the  arm, 
whispered,  "  Remember  your  lesson ; "  then  added  aloud, 
"  Holy  Father,  this  is  the  lay  brother  of  whom  I  spoke." 

The  prior  bowed  formally,  and  extended  his  hands  towards 
me  with  a  gesture  of  benediction :  "  Accipe  benedictionem  —  " 

"  Supper,  by  the  Lord  Harry  ! "  cried  a  jolly  voice  behind 


172  JACK  HINTOX,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

me,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  general  movement  was  made 
by  the  whole  party. 

The  prior  now  did  n't  wait  to  conclude  his  oration,  but 
tucking  up  his  garments,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
procession  which  had  formed,  two  and  two,  in  order  of 
march.  At  the  same  moment  two  fiddles  from  the  supper- 
room,  after  a  slight  prelude,  struck  up  the  anthem  of  the 
order,  which  was  the  popular  melody  of  "  The  night  before 
Larry  was  stretched ! " 

Marching  in  measured  tread,  we  entered  the  supper- 
room,  when,  once  having  made  the  circuit  of  the  table,  at 
a  flourish  of  the  fiddles  we  assumed  our  places,  the  superior 
seating  himself  at  the  head  in  a  chair  of  state,  slightly 
elevated  above  the  rest.  A  short  Latin  grace,  which  I  was 
unfortunate  enough  not  to  catch,  being  said,  the  work  of 
eating  began ;  and  certainly,  whatever  might  have  been  the 
feats  of  the  friars  of  old  when  the  bell  summoned  them  to 
the  refectory,  their  humble  followers,  the  Monks  of  the 
Screw,  did  them  no  discredit.  A  profusion  of  dishes  cov- 
ered the  table ;  and  although  the  entire  service  was  of 
wood,  and  the  whole  "equipage"  of  the  most  plain  and 
simple  description,  yet  the  cookery  was  admirable,  and  the 
wines  perfection  itself. 

While  the  supper  proceeded,  scarcely  a  word  was  spoken. 
By  the  skilful  exercise  of  signs,  with  which  the}*  all  seemed 
familiar,  roast  ducks,  lobsters,  veal-pies,  and  jellies  flew 
from  hand  to  hand ;  the  decanters  also  paraded  up  and 
down  the  table  with  an  alacrity  and  despatch  I  had  seldom 
seen  equalled.  Still,  the  pious  brethren  maintained  a  taci- 
turn demeanor  that  would  have  done  credit  to  La  Trappe 
itself.  As  for  me,  my  astonishment  and  curiosity  increased 
every  moment.  What  could  they  be  ?  What  could  they 
mean  ?  There  was  something  too  farcical  about  it  all  to 
suppose  that  any  political  society  or  any  dangerous  associa- 
tion could  be  concealed  under  such  a  garb;  and  if  mere 
conviviality  and  good  fellowship  were  meant,  their  un- 
broken silence  and  grave  demeanor  struck  me  as  a  most 
singular  mode  of  promoting  either. 


AN  EVENING  IN  TOWN.  173 

Supper  at  length  concluded,  the  dishes  were  removed  by 
two  humble  brethren  of  the  order,  dressed  in  a  species  of 
gray  serge;,  after  which,  marching  to  a  solemn  tune,  an- 
other monk  appeared,  bearing  a  huge  earthenware  bowl, 
brimful  of  steaming  punch,  —  at  least  so  the  odor  and  the 
floating  lemons  bespoke  it.  Each  brother  was  now  pro- 
vided with  a  small  quaint-looking  pipkin,  after  which  the 
domestics  withdrew,  leaving  us  in  silence  as  before.  For 
about  a  second  or  two  this  continued,  when  suddenly  the 
fiddles  gave  a  loud  twang,  and  each  monk,  springing  to  his 
legs,  threw  back  his  cowl,  and,  bowing  to  the  superior,  re- 
seated himself.  So  sudden  was  the  action,  so  unexpected 
the  effect,  for  a  moment  or  two  I  believed  it  a  dream- 
What  was  my  surprise,  what  my  amazement,  that  this  den 
of  thieves,  this  horde  of  burglars,  this  secret  council  of 
rebels,  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  an  assemblage  of 
nearly  all  the  first  men  of  the  day  in  Ireland !  And  as  my 
eye  ran  rapidly  over  the  party,  here  I  could  see  the  chief 
baron,  with  a  venerable  dignitary  of  St.  Patrick's  on  his 
right;  there  was  the  attorney-general;  there  the  provost 
of  Trinity  College ;  lower  down,  with  his  skull-cap  set 
jauntily  on  one  side,  was  Wellesley  Pole,  the  secretary  of 
state ;  Yelverton,  Day,  Plunket,  Parsons,  Toler,  —  in  a 
word,  all  those  whose  names  were  a  guarantee  for  every- 
thing that  was  brilliant,  witty,  and  amusing  were  there; 
while,  conspicuous  among  the  rest,  the  prior  himself  was 
no  other  than  John  Philpot  Curran  !  Scarcely  was  my 
rapid  survey  of  the  party  completed,  when  the  superior, 
filling  his  pipkin  from  the  ample  bowl  before  him,  rose  to 
give  the  health  of  the  order.  Alas  me !  that  time  should 
have  so  sapped  my  memory !  I  can  but  give  my  impression 
of  what  I  heard. 

The  speech,  which  lasted  about  ten  minutes,  was  a  kind 
of  burlesque  on  speeches  from  the  throne,  describing  in 
formal  phrase  the  prosperous  state  of  their  institution,  its 
amicable  foreign  relations,  the  flourishing  condition  of  its 
finances,  —  Brother  Yelverton  having  paid  in  the  two-and- 
sixpence  he  owed  for  above  two   years,  —  concluding  all 


174  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

with  the  hope  that  by  a  rigid  economy  (part  of  which  con- 
sisted in  limiting  John  Toler  to  ten  pipkins),  they  would 
soon  be  enabled  to  carry  into  effect  the  proposed  works  on 
the  frontier,  and  expend  the  sum  of  four  shillings-and-nine- 
pence  in  the  repair  of  the  lobby.  Winding  up  all  with  a 
glowing  eulogium  on  monastic  institutions  in  general,  he 
concluded  with  recommending  to  their  special  devotion  and 
unanimous  cheers  "  the  Monks  of  the  Screw."  Never,  cer- 
tainly, did  men  compensate  for  their  previous  silence  better 
than  the  worthy  brethren  in  question.  Cheering  with  an 
energy  I  never  heard  the  like  of,  each  man  finished  his 
pipkin  with  just  voice  enough  left  to  call  for  the  song  of 
the  order. 

Motioning  with  his  hand  to  the  fiddlers  to  begin,  the 
prior  cleared  his  throat,  and,  to  the  same  simple  but  touch- 
ing melody  they  had  marched  in  to  supper,  sang  the 
following  chant :  — 

GOOD  LUCK  TO  THE  FRIARS  OF  OLD. 

Of  all  trades  that  flourished  of  old, 

Before  men  knew  reading  and  writing, 
The  friar's  was  best  I  am  told, 

If  one  was  n't  much  given  to  fighting; 
For,  rent  free,  you  lived  at  your  ease, 

You  had  neither  to  work  nor  to  labor ; 
You  might  eat  of  whatever  you  please, 

For  the  prog  was  supplied  by  your  neighbor. 
Oh,  good  luck  to  the  friars  of  old ! 

Your  dress  was  convenient  and  cheap,  — 

A  loose  robe  like  this  I  am  wearing ; 
It  was  pleasant  to  eat  in  or  sleep, 

And  never  much  given  to  tearing 
Not  tightened  nor  squeezed  in  the  least,  — 

How  of  modern  days  you  might  shame  us! 
With  a  small  bit  of  cord  round  your  waist,  — 

With  what  vigor  you  'd  chant  the  oremus .' 

Oh,  good  luck  to  the  friars  of  old  .' 

What  miracles  then,  too,  you  made  ! 
The  fame  to  this  hour  is  lasting  ; 


AN  EVENING  IN  TOWN.  175 

But  the  strangest  of  all,  it  is  said, 

You  grew  mighty  fat  upon  fasting ! 
And  though  strictly  forbid  to  touch  wine,  — 
-How  the  fact  all  your  glory  enhances  !  — 
You  well  knew  the  taste  of  the  vine  : 
Some  miraculous  gift  of  Saint  Francis  ! 

Oh,  good  luck  to  the  friars  of  old  ! 

To  trace  an  example  so  meek, 

And  repress  all  our  carnal  desires, 
We  mount  two-pair  stairs  every  week, 

And  put  on  the  garment  of  friars  ; 
And  our  order  itself  it  is  old, — 

The  oldest  between  me  and  you,  sir,  — 
For  King  David,  they  say,  was  enrolled, 

And  a  capital  Monk  of  the  Screw,  sir. 

So,  good  luck  to  the  friars  of  old  ! 

The  song  over,  and  another  cheer  given  to  the  brethren 
of  the  Screw,  the  pipkins  were  replenished,  and  the  con- 
versation, so  long  pent  up,  burst  forth  in  all  its  pleni- 
tude. Nothing  but  fun,  nothing  but  wit,  nothing  but  mer- 
riment, was  heard  on  either  side.  Here  were  not  only  all 
the  bright  spirits  of  the  day,  but  they  were  met  by  appoint- 
ment, —  they  came  prepared  for  the  combat,  armed  for  the 
fight ;  and  certainly  never  was  such  a  joust  of  wit  and  bril- 
liancy. Good  stories  reigned  around ;  jests,  repartees,  and 
epigrams  flew  like  lightning ;  and  one  had  but  time  to  catch 
some  sparkling  gem  as  it  glittered,  ere  another  and  another 
succeeded. 

But  even  already  I  grow  impatient  with  myself  while  I 
speak  of  these  things.  How  poor,  how  vapid,  and  how 
meagre  is  the  effort  to  recall  the  wit  that  set  the  table  in  a 
roar !  Not  only  is  memory  wanting,  but  how  can  one  con- 
vey the  incessant  roll  of  fun,  the  hailstorm  of  pleasantry, 
that  rattled  about  our  ears,  —  each  good  thing  that  was 
uttered  ever  suggesting  something  still  better ;  the  bright- 
est fancy  and  the  most  glowing  imagination  stimulated  to 
their  utmost  exercise  ;  while  powers  of  voice,  of  look,  and 
of  mimicry  unequalled  lent  all  their  aid  to  the  scene. 

While  I  sat  entranced  and  delighted  with  all  I  saw  and 


176  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

all  I  heard,  I  had  not  remarked  that  0' Grady  had  been  ad- 
dressing the  chair  for  some  time  previous. 

"  Reverend  brother,"  replied  the  prior,  "  the  prayer  of 
thy  petition  is  inadmissible.  The  fourth  rule  of  our  faith 
says,  de  confessione :  no  subject,  mirthful,  witty,  or  jocose, 
known  to  or  by  any  member  of  the  order,  shall  be  withheld 
from  the  brotherhood  under  a  penalty  of  the  heaviest  kind. 
And  it  goes  on  to  say,  that,  whether  the  jest  involve  your 
father  or  your  mother,  your  wife,  your  sister,  or  the  aunt 
from  whom  you  expect  a  legacy,  no  exception  can  be  made. 
What  you  then  look  for  is  clearly  impossible ;  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  and  begin." 

This  being  a  question  of  order,  a  silence  was  soon  estab- 
lished, when  what  was  my  horror  to  find  that  Phil  0' Grady 
began  the  whole  narrative  of  my  mother's  letter  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Rooneys  !  Not  limiting  himself,  however,  to  the 
meagre  document  in  question,  but  coloring  the  story  with  all 
the  force  of  his  imagination,  he  displayed  to  the  brethren  the 
ludicrous  extremes  of  character  personated  by  the  London 
fine  lady  and  the  Dublin  attorney's  wife.  Shocked  as  I  was 
at  first,  he  had  not  proceeded  far  when  I  was  forced  to  join 
the  laughter.  The  whole  table  pounced  upon  the  story; 
the  Rooneys  were  well  known  to  them  all,  and  the  idea  of 
poor  Paul,  who  dispensed  his  hospitalities  with  a  princely 
hand,  having  his  mansion  degraded  to  the  character  of  a 
chop-house  almost  convulsed  them  with  laughter. 

"  I  am  going  over  to  London  next  week,"  said  Parsons, 
"  with  old  Lambert ;  and  if  I  thought  I  should  meet  this 
Lady  Charlotte  Hinton  I  'd  certainly  contrive  to  have  him 
presented  to  her  as  Mr.  Paul  Rooney." 

This  observation  created  a  diversion  in  favor  of  my  lady- 
mother,  to  which  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  listening  without 
the  power  to  check. 

"She  has,"  said  Dawson,  "most  admirable  and  original 
views  about  Ireland  ;  and  were  it  only  for  the  fact  of  call- 
ing on  the  Rooneys  for  their  bill,  she  deserves  our  gratitude. 
I  humbly  move,  therefore,  that  we  drink  to  the  health  of 
our  worthy  sister,  Lady  Charlotte  Hinton." 


AN   EVENING   IN   TOWN.  177 

The  next  moment  found  me  hip-hipping  in  derision  to  my 
mother's  health,  the  only  consolation  being  that  I  was  escap- 
ing unnoticed  and  unknown. 

••  Well,  Barrington,  the  duke  was  delighted  with  the 
corps;  nothing  could  be  more  soldier-like  than  their  ap- 
pearance as  they  marched  past." 

"Ah,  the  attorneys',  is  n't  it,  —the  Devil's  Own,  as  Curran 
calls  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  remarkably  well  they  looked.  I  say,  Parsons, 
you  heard  what  poor  Rooney  said  when  Sir  Charles  Asgill 
read  aloud  the  general  order  complimenting  them  :  <  May  I 
beg,  Sir  Charles,'  said  he,  '  to  ask  if  the  document  in  your 
hand  be  an  attested  copy  ?  ' " 

"  Capital,  faith !  By-the-bye,  what 's  the  reason,  can  any 
one  tell  me,  Paul  has  never  invited  me  to  dine  for  the  last 
two  years  ?  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Curran ;  "  then  your  chance  is  a  bad  one, 
for  the  statute  of  limitations  is  clearly  against  you." 

"  Ah,  Kellar,  the  Rooneys  have  cut  all  their  low  acquaint- 
ances, and  your  prospects  look  very  gloomy.  You  know 
what  took  place  between  Paul  and  Lord  Manners  ?  " 

"  No,  Barrington  ;  let 's  hear  it,  by  all  means." 

"Paul  had  met  him  at  Kinnegad,  where  both  had  stopped 
to  change  horses.  'A  glass  of  sherry,  my  lord?'  quoth 
Paul,  with  a  most  insinuating  look. 

"  '  No,  sir,  thank  you,'  was  the  distant  reply. 

"  'A  bowl  of  gravy,  then,  my  lord  ?  '  rejoined  he. 

"  'Pray,  excuse  me/  more  coldly  than  before. 

"  '  Maybe  a  chop  and  a  crisped  potato  would  tempt  your 
lordship  ? ' 

"  '  Neither,  Sir,  I  assure  you.' 

"  '  Nor  a  glass  of  egg-flip  ? '  repeated  Paul,  in  an  accent 
bordering  on  despair. 

"'Nor  even  the  egg-flip,'  rejoined  his  Lordship,  in  the 
most  pompous  manner. 

" '  Then,  my  lord,'  said  Paul,  drawing  himself  up  to  his 
full  height,  and  looking  him  firmly  in  the  face,  'I've  only 
to  say  the  onus  is  now  on  you.'  With  which  he  stalked 
vol.  i.  — 12 


178  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

out  of  the  room,  leaving  the  chancellor  to  his  own 
reflections." 

"  Brethren,  the  saint ! "  cried  out  the  prior,  as  he  rose 
from  the  chair. 

"  The  saint !  the  saint !  "  re-echoed  from  lip  to  lip ;  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  door  opened,  and  a  monk  appeared, 
bearing  a  silver  image  of  Saint  Patrick,  about  a  foot  and  a 
half  high,  which  he  deposited  in  the  middle  of  the  table 
with  the  utmost  reverence.  All  the  monks  rose,  tilling  their 
pipkins ;  while  the  junior  of  the  order,  a  fat  little  monk 
with  spectacles,  began  the  following  ditty,  in  which  all  the 
rest  joined  with  every  energy  of  voice  and  manner :  — 

i. 

When  Saint  Patrick  our  order  created, 
And  called  us  the  Monks  of  the  Screw, 

Good  rules  he  revealed  to  our  abbot 
To  guide  us  in  what  we  should  do. 


But  first  he  replenished  his  fountain 
With  liquor  the  best  in  the  sky, 

And  he  swore  by  the  word  of  his  saintship 
That  fountain  should  never  run  dry. 


My  children,  be  chaste,  till  you  're  tempted; 

While  sober,  be  wise  and  discreet; 
And  humble  your  bodies  with  fasting 

Whene'er  you  've  nothing  to  eat. 


Then  be  not  a  glass  in  the  convent, 

Except  on  a  festival,  found; 
And  this  rule  to  enforce,  I  ordain  it 

A  festival  all  the  year  round. 

A  hip,  hip,  hurrah !  that  made  the  very  saint  totter  on 
his  legs,  shook  the  room ;  and  once  more  the  reverend 
fathers  reseated  themselves  to  resume  their  labors. 

Again  the  conversation  flowed  on  in  its  broader  channel ; 
and  scarcely  was  the  laughter  caused  by  one  anecdote  at  an 


AN   EVENING   IN  TOWN.  179 

end  when  another  succeeded,  —  the  strangest  feature  of  all 
this  being  that  he  who  related  the  story  was,  in  almost 
every  instance,  less  the  source  of  amusement  to  the  party 
than  they  who,  listening  to  the  recital,  threw  a  hundred 
varied  lights  upon  it,  making  even  the  tamest  imaginable 
adventure  the  origin  of  innumerable  ludicrous  situations 
and  absurd  fancies.  Besides  all  this,  there  were  charac- 
teristic differences  in  the  powers  of  the  party,  which  de- 
prived the  display  of  any  trace  or  appearance  of  sameness. 
The  epigrammatic  terseness  and  nicety  of  Curran;  the 
jovial  good  humor  and  mellow  raciness  of  Lawrence 
Parsons;  the  happy  facility  of  converting  all  before  him 
into  a  pun  or  a  repartee,  so  eminently  possessed  by  Toler ; 
and,  perhaps  more  striking  than  all,  the  caustic  irony  and 
piercing  sarcasm  of  Plunket's  wit,  —  relieved  and  displayed 
one  another;  each  man's  talent  having  only  so  much  of 
rivalry  as  to  excite  opposition  and  give  interest  to  the 
combat,  yet  never  by  any  accident  originating  a  particle  of 
animosity,  or  even  eliciting  a  shade  of  passing  irritation. 

With  what  pleasure  could  I  continue  to  recount  the 
stories,  the  songs,  the  sayings,  I  listened  to !  With  what 
satisfaction  do  I  yet  look  back  upon  that  brilliant  scene, 
nearly  all  the  actors  in  which  have  since  risen  to  high  rank 
and  eminence  in  the  country !  How  often,  too,  in  their 
bright  career,  when  I  have  heard  the  warm  praise  of  the 
world  bestowed  upon  their  triumphs  and  their  successes, 
has  my  memory  carried  me  back  to  that  glorious  night, 
when  with  hearts  untrammelled  by  care,  high  in  hope  and 
higher  in  ambition,  these  bright  spirits  sported  in  all  the 
wanton  exuberance  of  their  genius,  scattering  with  profu- 
sion the  rich  ore  of  their  talent,  careless  of  the  depths  to 
which  the  mine  should  be  shafted  hereafter!  Yes,  it  is 
true  there  were  giants  in  those  days.  However  much  one 
may  be  disposed  to  look  upon  the  eulogist  of  the  past,  as 
one  whose  fancy  is  more  ardent  than  his  memory  is  tena- 
cious, yet  with  respect  to  this  there  is  no  denial  of  the  fact 
that  great  convivial  gifts,  great  conversational  power,  no 
longer  exist  as  they  did  some  thirty  or  forty  years  ago.     I 


180  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

speak  more  particularly  of  the  country  where  I  passed  my 
youth,  —  of  Ireland  ;  and  who  that  remembers  those  names 
I  have  mentioned,  —  who  that  can  recall  the  fascination 
and  charm  which  almost  every  dinner-party  of  the  day 
could  boast,  —  who  that  can  bring  to  mind  the  brilliancy 
of  Curran,  the  impetuous  power  of  Plunket,  or  the  elegance 
of  manner  and  classical  perfection  of  wit  that  made  Burke 
the  Cicero  of  his  nation,  —  who,  I  say,  with  all  these  things 
before  his  memory,  can  venture  to  compare  the  society  of 
that  period  with  the  present  ?  No,  no !  the  gray  hairs  that 
mingle  with  our  brown  may  convict  us  of  being  a  preju- 
diced witness,  but  we  would  call  into  court  every  one  whose 
testimony  is  available,  and  confidently  await  the  verdict. 

"  And  so  they  ran  away  ! "  said  the  prior  turning  towards 
a  tall,  gaunt-looking  monk,  who  with  a  hollow  voice  and 
solemn  manner  was  recording  the  singular  disappearance  of 
the  militia  regiment  he  commanded  on  the  morning  they 
were  to  embark  for  England.  "  The  story  we  heard,"  re- 
sumed the  prior,  "  was  that  when  drawn  up  in  the  Fifteen 
Acres,  one  of  the  light  company  caught  sight  of  a  hare  and 
flung  his  musket  at  it ;  that  the  grenadiers  followed  the  ex- 
ample, and  that  then  the  whole  battalion  broke  loose,  with 
a  loud  yell,  and  .set  off  in  pursuit  —  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  gaunt  .uan,  waving  his  hand  to  sup- 
press the  laughter  around  him.  "  They  were  assembled  on 
the  light-house  wall,  as  it  might  be  here,  and  we  told  them 
off  by  tallies  as  they  marched  on  board,  —  not  perceiving, 
however,  that  as  fast  as  they  entered  the  packet  on  one 
side  they  left  it  on  the  opposite,  there  being  two  jolly-boats 
in  waiting  to  receive  them ;  and  as  it  was  dusk  at  the  time, 
the  scheme  was  undetected,  until  the  corporal  of  a  flank 
company  shouted  out  to  them  to  wait  for  him,  that  being 
his  boat.  At  this  time  we  had  fifty  men  of  our  four 
hundred  and  eighty." 

"  Ay,  ay,  holy  father,"  cried  the  prior,  as  he  helped  him- 
self to  a  devilled  bone,  "  your  fellows  were  like  the  grilled 
bone  before  me,  —  when  they  were  mustered,  they  would 
not  wait  to  be  peppered." 


AN    EVENING   IN  TOWN. 


181 


This  sally  produced  a  roar  of  laughter,  not  the  less 
hearty  that  the  grim-visaged  hero  it  was  addressed  to  never 
relaxed  a  muscle  of  his  face. 

It  was  aow  late,  and  what  between  the  noise,  the  wine, 
and  the  laughter,  my  faculties  were  none  of  the  clearest. 
Without  having  drunk  much,  I  felt  all  the  intoxication  of 


liquor,  and  a  whirlwind  of  confusion  in  my  ideas  that 
almost  resembled  madness.  To  this  state  one  part  of  their 
proceedings  in  a  great  measure  contributed ;  for  every  now 
and  then,  on  some  signal  from  the  prior,  the  whole  party 
would  take  hands  and  dance  round  the  table  to  the  measure 
of  an  Irish  jig,  wilder  and  even  more  eccentric  than  their 
own  orgies.  Indeed,  I  think  this  religious  exercise  finished 
me ;  for  after  the  third  time  of  its  performance  the  whole 
scene  became  a  confused  and  disturbed  mass,  and  amid  the 


182  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

crash  of  voices,  the  ringing  of  laughter,  the  tramping  of 
feet,  I  sank  into  something  which  if  not  sleep  was  at  least 
unconsciousness,  —  and  thus  is  a  wet  sponge  drawn  over 
the  immediately  succeeding  portion  of  my  history. 

Some  faint  recollection  I  have  of  terrifying  old  Corny  by 
my  costume ;  but  what  the  circumstances,  or  how  they 
happened,  I  cannot  remember.  I  can  only  call  to  mind 
one  act  in  vindication  of  my  wisdom,  —  I  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A    CONFIDENCE. 

I  slept  late  on  the  morning  after  my  introduction  to  the 
Monks  of  the  Screw,  and  probably  should  have  continued 
to  indulge  still  longer  had  not  O'Grady  awoke  me. 

"  Come,  Jack,"  he  cried,  "  this  is  the  third  time  I  have 
been  here  to-day.  I  can't  have  mercy  on  you  any  longer ; 
so  rub  your  eyes,  and  try  if  you  can't  wake  sufficiently  to 
listen  to  me.  I  have  just  received  my  appointment  as  cap- 
tain in  the  Forty-first,  with  an  order  to  repair  immediately 
to  Chatham  to  join  the  regiment,  which  is  under  orders  for 
foreign  service." 

"  And  when  do  you  go,  Phil  ?  " 

"To-night,  at  eight  o'clock.  A  private  note  from  a 
friend  at  the  Horse  Guards  tells  me  not  to  lose  a  moment ; 
and  as  I  shall  have  to  wait  on  the  duke  to  thank  him  for 
his  great  kindness  to  me,  I  have  no  time  to  spare." 

This  news  so  stunned  me  that  for  a  moment  or  two  I 
could  n't  reply.  O'Grady  perceived  it,  and,  patting  me 
gayly  on  the  shoulder,  said,  — 

"  Yes,  Jack,  I  am  sorry  we  are  to  separate.  But  as  for 
me,  no  other  course  was  open  ;  and  as  to  you,  with  all  your 
independence  from  fortune,  and  with  all  your  family  influ- 
ence to  push  your  promotion,  the  time  is  not  very  distant 
when  you  will  begin  to  feel  the  life  you  are  leading  vapid 
and  tiresome.  You  will  long  for  an  excitement  more  vigor- 
ous and  more  healthy  in  its  character ;  and  then,  my  boy, 
my  dearest  hope  is  that  we  may  be  thrown  once  more 
together." 

Had  my  friend  been  able  at  the  moment  to  have  looked 
into  the  secret  recesses  of  my  heart  and  read  there  my  in- 


184  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

most  thoughts,  he  could  not  more  perfectly  have  depicted 
my  feelings,  nor  pictured  the  impressions  that  at  the  very 
moment  he  spoke  were  agitating  my  mind.  The  time  he 
alluded  to  had  indeed  arrived ;  the  hour  had  come  when  I 
wished  to  be  a  soldier  in  more  than  the  mere  garb.  But 
with  that  wish  came  linked  another  even  stronger  still ; 
and  this  was,  that,  before  I  went  on  service  I  should  once 
more  see  Louisa  Bellew,  explain  to  her  the  nature  and  ex- 
tent of  my  attachment  to  her,  and  obtain  if  possible  some 
pledge  on  her  part,  that,  with  the  distinction  I  hoped  to 
acquire,  I  should  look  to  the  possession  of  her  love  as  my 
reward  and  my  recompense.  Young  as  I  was,  I  felt 
ashamed  at  avowing  to  O'Grady  the  rapid  progress  of  my 
passion.  I  had  not  courage  to  confess  upon  what  slight 
encouragement  I  built  my  hopes,  and  at  the  same  time  was 
abashed  at  being  compelled  to  listen  tamely  to  his  prophecy, 
when  the  very  thoughts  that  flashed  across  me  would  have 
indicated  my  resolve. 

While  I  thus  maintained  an  awkward  silence,  he  once 
more  resumed :  — 

"  Meanwhile,  Jack,  you  can  serve  me,  and  I  shall  make 
no  apologies  for  enlisting  you.  You  've  heard  me  speak  of 
this  great  Loughrea  steeple-chase  :  now,  somehow  or  other, 
with  my  usual  prudence,  I  have  gone  on  adding  wager  to 
wager,  until  at  last  I  find  myself  with  a  book  of  some  eight 
hundred  pounds,  —  to  lose  which  at  a  moment  like  this,  I 
need  not  say,  would  almost  ruin  all  my  plans.  To  be  free 
of  the  transaction,  I  this  morning  offered  to  pay  half  for- 
feit, and  they  refused  me.  Yes,  Hinton,  they  knew  every 
man  of  them  the  position  I  stood  in.  They  saw  that  not 
only  my  prospects  but  my  honor  were  engaged ;  that  before 
a  week  I  should  be  far  away,  without  any  power  to  control, 
without  any  means  to  observe  them.  They  knew  well  that 
thus  circumstanced  I  must  lose;  and  that  if  I  lost,  I  must 
sell  my  commission,  and  leave  the  army  beggared  in 
character  and  in  fortune." 

"And  now,  my  dear  friend,"  said  I,  interrupting,  "how 
happens  it  that  you  bet  with  men  of  this  stamp  ?     I  under- 


A  CONFIDENCE.  185 

stood  you  it  was  a  friendly  match,  got  up  at  a  dinner- 
party." 

"Even  so,  Jack.  The  dinner  was  in  my  own  rooms,  the 
claret  mine, -the  men  my  friends.  You  may  smile,  but  so 
the  world  is  pleased  to  call  those  with  whom  from  day  to 
day  we  associate,  with  no  other  bond  of  union  than  the 
similarity  of  a  pursuit  which  has  nothing  more  repre- 
hensible in  it  than  the  character  of  the  intimacies  it  engen- 
ders. Yes,  Hinton,  these  are  my  sporting-friends,  sipping 
my  wine  while  they  plot  my  wretchedness.  Conviviality 
with  them  is  not  the  happy  abandonment  to  good  fellow- 
ship and  enjoyment,  but  the  season  of  cold  and  studied  cal- 
culation, — the  hour  when,  unexcited  themselves,  they  trade 
upon  the  unguarded  and  unwary  feelings  of  others.  They 
know  how  imperative  is  the  code  of  honor  as  regards  a  bet, 
and  they  make  a  virtue  to  themselves  in  the  unflinching 
firmness  of  their  exaction,  as  a  cruel  judge  would  seek  ap- 
plause for  the  stern  justice  with  which  he  condemns  a 
felon.  It  is  usual,  however,  to  accept  half  forfeit  in  cir- 
cumstances like  these  of  mine :  the  condition  did  not 
happen  to  be  inserted,  and  they  rejected  my  offer." 

"  Is  this  possible,"  said  I,  "  and  that  these  men  call  them- 
selves your  friends  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Jack ;  a  betting-book  is  like  Shylock's  bond,  and 
the  holder  of  one  pretty  much  about  as  merciful  as  the 
worthy  Israelite.  But  come,  come !  it  is  but  boyish  weak- 
ness in  one  like  me  to  complain  of  these  things ;  nor, 
indeed,  would  I  speak  of  them  noAV,  but  with  the  hope  that 
my  words  may  prove  a  warning  to  you,  while  they  serve  to 
explain  the  service  I  look  for  from  you,  and  give  you  some 
insight  into  the  character  of  those  with  whom  you  '11  have 
to  deal." 

"  Only  tell  me,"  said  I,  "  only  explain,  my  dear  O'Grady, 
what  I  can  do,  and  how :  \z  is  needless  for  me  to  say  I  'm 
ready." 

"  I  thought  as  much :  now  listen  to  me.  When  I  made 
this  unlucky  match  it  was,  as  I  have  said,  over  a  dinner-party, 
when,  excited  by  wine  and  carried  away  by  the  enthusiasm 


186  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

of  the  moment,  I  made  a  proposition  which  with  a  calmer 
head  I  should  never  have  ventured.  For  a  second  or  two 
it  was  not  accepted;  and  Mr.  Burke,  of  whom  you've  heard 
me  speak,  called  out  from  the  end  of  the  table,  '  A  sporting 
offer,  by  Jove  !  and  I  '11  ride  for  you  myself.'  This  I  knew 
was  to  give  me  one  of  the  first  horsemen  in  Ireland ;  so, 
while  filling  my  glass,  and,  nodding  to  him,  accepted  his 
offer,  I  cried  out,  '  Two  to  one  against  any  horse  named  at 
this  moment ! '  The  words  were  not  spoken  when  I  was 
taken  up,  at  both  sides  of  the  table ;  and  as  I  leaned  across 
to  borrow  a  pencil  from  a  friend,  I  saw  that  a  smile  was 
curling  every  lip,  and  that  Burke  himself  endeavored  with 
his  wine-glass  to  conceal  the  expression  of  his  face.  I 
needed  no  stronger  proof  that  the  whole  match  had  been  a 
preconcerted  scheme  between  the  parties,  and  that  I  had 
fallen  into  a  snare  laid  purposely  to  entrap  me.  It  was  too 
late,  however,  to  retract;  I  booked  my  bets,  drank  my 
wine,  congeed  my  friends,  went  to  bed,  and  woke  the  next 
morning  to  feel  myself  a  dupe. 

"  But,  come,  Jack  ;  at  this  rate,  I  shall  never  have  done. 
The  match  was  booked,  the  ground  chosen,  Mr.  Burke  to  be 
my  jockey,  and  in  fact  everything  arranged,  when  what 
was  my  surprise,  my  indignation,  to  find  that  the  horse  I 
destined  for  the  race  (at  that  time  in  possession  of  a 
friend)  was  bought  up  for  five  hundred  and  sent  off  to 
England !  This  disclosed  to  me  how  completely  I  was  en- 
trapped. Nothing  remained  for  me  then  but  to  purchase 
one  which  offered  at  the  moment ;  and  this  one,  I  've  told 
you  already,  has  the  pleasant  reputation  of  being  the  most 
wicked  devil  and  the  hardest  to  ride  in  the  whole  west :  in 
fact,  except  Burke  himself,  nobody  would  mount  him  on  a 
road,  and  as  to  crossing  a  country  with  him,  even  he,  they 
say,  has  no  fancy  for  it.  In  any  case,  he  made  it  the 
ground  of  a  demand  which  I  could  not  refuse,  —  that  in  the 
event  of  my  winning  he  was  to  claim  a  third  of  the  stakes. 
At  length  the  horse  is  put  in  training,  improves  every  hour. 
and  matters  seem  to  be  taking  a  favorable  turn.  In  the 
midst  of  this,  however,  the  report  reaches  me,  as  you  heard 


A   CONFIDENCE.  187 

yourself  yesterday  morning,  that  Burke  will  not  ride. 
However  I  affected  to  discredit  it  at  the  moment,  I  had 
great  difficulty  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  calm.  This 
morning  settles  the  question  by  this  letter :  "  — 

Red  House,  Wednesday  Morning. 
Dear  Sir,  —  A  friendly  hint  has  just  reached  me  that  I  am  to  be 
arrested  on  the  morning  of  the  Loughrea  race  for  a  trifle  of  a  hundred 
and  eighteen  pounds  and  some  odd  shillings.  If  it  suits  your  con- 
venience to  pay  the  money,  or  enter  into  bail  for  the  amount,  I  '11  be 
very  happy  to  ride  your  horse  ;  for  although  I  don't  care  for  a  double 
ditch,  I  've  no  fancy  to  take  the  wall  of  the  county  jail,  even  on  the 
back  of  as  good  a  horse  as  Moddiridderoo. 

Yours  truly, 

Ulick  Burke. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  as  after  some  difficulty  I  spelled  through 
this  ill-written  and  dirty  epistle,  "  and  what  do  you  mean 
to  do  here  ?  " 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  said  Phil,  "  what  I  'd  like  to  do,  I  tell 
you  fairly  it  would  be  to  horsewhip  my  friend  Mr.  Burke 
as  a  preliminary,  pay  the  stakes,  withdraw  my  horse,  and 
cut  the  whole  concern ;  but  my  present  position  is,  unhap- 
pily, opposed  to  each  of  these  steps.  In  the  first  place,  a 
rencontre  with  Burke  would  do  me  infinite  disservice  at  the 
Horse  Guards;  and  as  to  the  payment  of  eight  hundred 
pounds,  I  don't  think  I  could  raise  the  money  without  some 
one  would  advance  five  hundred  of  it  for  a  mortgage  on 
Corny  Delany.  But  to  be  serious,  Jack,  —  and,  as  time 
passes,  I  must  be  serious,  — I  believe  the  best  way  on  this 
occasion  is  to  give  Burke  the  money  (for  as  to  the  bill,  that 's 
an  invention)  ;  yet  as  I  must  start  to-night  for  England, 
and  the  affair  will  require  some  management,  I  must  put 
the  whole  matter  into  your  hands,  with  full  instructions 
how  to  act." 

"  I  am  quite  ready  and  willing,"  said  I ;  "  only  give  me 
the  carte  du pays." 

"  Well,  then,  my  boy,  you  '11  go  down  to  Loughrea  for  me 
the  day  before  the  race,  establish  yourself  as  quietly  as  you 
can  in  the  hotel,  and,  as  the  riders  must  be  named  on  the 


188  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

day  before  the  running,  contrive  to  see  Mr.  Burke,  and  in- 
form him  that  his  demand  will  be  complied  with.  Have  no 
delicacy  with  him,  —  it  is  a  mere  money  question  ;  and  al- 
though by  the  courtesy  of  the  turf  he  is  a  gentleman,  yet 
there  is  no  occasion  to  treat  him  with  more  of  ceremony 
than  is  due  to  yourself  in  your  negotiation.  This  letter 
contains  the  sum  he  mentions.  In  addition  to  that,  I  have 
enclosed  a  bank  cheque  for  whatever  you  like  to  give  him ; 
only  remember  one  thing,  Hinton,  —  he  must  ride,  and  1 
must  win." 

All  the  calmness  with  which  O'Grady  had  hitherto 
spoken  deserted  him  at  this  moment ;  his  face  became 
scarlet,  his  brow  was  bent,  and  his  lip  quivered  with  pas- 
sion, while  as  he  walked  the  room  with  hurried  steps  he 
muttered  between  his  teeth,  — 

"  Yes,  though  it  cost  my  last  shilling,  I  '11  win  the  race ! 
They  thought  to  ruin  me ;  the  scheme  was  deeply  laid  and 
well  planned  too,  but  they  shall  fail.  No,  Hinton,"  resumed 
he  in  a  louder  tone,  —  "  no,  Hinton ;  believe  me,  poor  man 
that  I  am,  this  is  not  with  me  a  question  of  so  many  pounds ; 
it  is  the  wounded  ainour  projwe  of  a  man  who  all  through 
his  life  held  out  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  to  those  very 
men  who  now  conspire  to  be  his  ruin.  And  such,  my  dear 
boy,  such,  for  the  most  part,  are  the  dealings  of  the  turf. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  men  of  high  honor  and  unblem- 
ished integrity  are  not  foremost  in  the  encouragement  of  a 
sport  which  from  its  bold  and  manly  character  is  essentially 
an  English  one  ;  but  this  I  would  assert,  that  probity,  truth, 
and  honor  are  the  gifts  of  but  a  very  small  number  of  those 
who  make  a  traffic  of  the  turf,  and  are  what  the  world  calls 
'racing  men.'  And  oh  how  very  hard  the  struggle,  how  nice 
the  difficulty,  of  him  who  makes  these  men  his  daily  com- 
panions, to  avoid  the  many  artifices  which  the  etiquette  of 
the  race-course  permits,  but  which  the  feelings  of  a  gentle- 
man would  reject  as  unfair  and  unworthy  !  How  contami- 
nating that  laxity  of  principle  that  admits  of  every  strata- 
gem, every  trick,  as  legitmate,  with  the  sole  proviso  that  it 
be  successful !     And  what  a  position  is  it  that  admits  of 


A  CONFIDENCE.  189 

no  alternative  save  being  the  dupe  or  the  black-leg  !  How 
hard  for  the  young  fellow  entering  upon  life  with  all  the 
ardor,  all  the  unsuspecting  freshness  of  youth  about  him,  to 
stop  short  at  one  without  passing  on  to  the  other  stage ! 
How  difficult,  with  offended  pride  and  wounded  self-love, 
to  find  himself  the  mere  tool  of  sharpers  !  How  very  diffi- 
cult to  check  the  indignant  spirit  that  whispers  retaliation 
by  the  very  arts  by  which  he  has  been  cheated !  Is  not 
such  a  trial  as  this  too  much  for  any  boy  of  twenty ;  and 
is  it  not  to  be  feared,  that,  in  the  estimation  he  sees  those 
held  in  whose  blackguardism  is  their  pre-eminence,  a  per- 
verted ambition  to  be  what  is  called  a  sharp  fellow  may  sap 
and  undermine  every  honorable  feeling  of  the  heart,  break 
down  the  barriers  of  rigid  truth  and  scrupulous  fidelity, 
teaching  him  to  exult  at  what  formerly  he  had  blushed, 
and  to  recognize  no  folly  so  contemptible  as  that  of  him 
who  believes  the  word  of  another  ?  Such  a  career  as 
this  has  many  a  one  pursued,  abandoning  bit  by  bit 
every  grace,  every  virtue,  and  every  charm  of  his  char- 
acter, that,  at  the  end,  he  should  come  forth  a  'sporting 
gentleman ! ' " 

He  paused  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then,  turning  towards 
me,  added  in  a  voice  tremulous  from  emotion,  "  And  yet,  my 
boy,  to  men  like  this  I  would  now  expose  you !  No,  no, 
Jack ;  I  '11  not  do  it.  I  care  not  what  turn  the  thing  may 
take  ;  I  '11  not  embitter  my  life  with  this  reflection."  He 
seized  the  letter,  and  crushing  it  in  his  hand,  walked  towards 
the  window. 

"  Come,  come,  O'Grady,"  said  I,  "  this  is  not  fair ;  you 
first  draw  a  strong  picture  of  these  men,  and  then  you 
deem  me  weak  enough  to  fall  into  their  snares.  That 
would  hardly  say  much  for  my  judgment  and  good  sense  ; 
besides,  you  have  stimulated  my  curiosity,  and  I  shall  be 
sadly  disappointed  if  I  'm  not  to  see  them." 

"  Be  it  so,  Jack,"  said  he  with  a  sigh.  "  I  shall  give  you 
a  couple  of  letters  to  some  friends  of  mine  down  there ; 
and  I  know  but  one  recompense  you'll  have  for  all  the 
trouble   and  annoyance   of    this   business,  —  your    pretty 


190  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

friend,  Miss  Bellew,  is  on  a  visit  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
is  certain  to  be  at  the  race." 

Had  O'Grady  looked  at  me  while  he  spoke  he  would  have 
seen  how  deeply  this  intelligence  affected  me,  while  I  my- 
self could  with  difficulty  restrain  the  increased  interest  I 
now  felt  in  all  about  the  matter,  questioning  him  on  every 
particular,  inquiring  into  a  hundred  minute  points,  and  in 
fact  displaying  an  ardor  on  the  subject  that  nothing  short 
of  my  friend's  pre-occupation  could  have  failed  in  detecting 
the  source  of.  My  mind  now  fixed  on  one  object,  I  could 
scarcely  follow  him  in  his  directions  as  to  travelling  down, 
secrecy,  etc. 

I  heard  something  about  the  canal-boat,  and  some  con- 
fused impression  was  on  my  mind  about  a  cross-road  and  a 
jaunting-car ;  but  the  prospect  of  meeting  Louisa,  the  hope 
of  again  being  in  her  society,  rendered  me  indifferent  to 
all  else;  and  as  I  thrust  the  letters  he  gave  me  into  my 
coat  pocket,  and  promised  an  implicit  observance  of  all  his 
directions,  I  should  have  been  sorely  puzzled  had  he  asked 
me  to  repeat  them. 

"Now,"  continued  O'Grady,  at  the  end  of  about  half-an- 
hour's  rapid  speaking,  "  I  believe  I  've  put  you  in  posses- 
sion of  all  the  bearings  of  this  case.  You  understand,  I 
hope,  the  kind  of  men  you  have  to  deal  with,  and  I  trust  Mr. 
Ulick  Burke  is  thoroughly  known  to  you  by  this  time  ?  " 

"Oh,  perfectly,"  said  I,  half  mechanically. 

"  Well,  then,  my  boy,  1  believe  I  had  better  say  good-by. 
Something  tells  me  we  shall  meet  ere  long ;  meanwhile, 
Jack,  you  have  my  best  wishes."  He  paused  for  a  moment 
and  turned  away  his  head,  evidently  affected,  then  added, 
"  You  '11  write  to  me  soon,  of  course ;  and  as  that  old  fool 
Corny  follows  me  in  a  week —  " 

"  And  is  Corny  going  abroad  ?  " 

"  Ay,  confound  him !  like  the  old  man  in  Sindbad, 
there  's  no  getting  him  off  one's  shoulders.  Besides,  he  has 
a  kind  of  superstition  that  he  ought  to  close  the  eyes  of 
the  last  of  the  family ;  and  as  he  has  frankly  confessed  to 
me  this  morning  he  knows  I  am  in  that  predicament,  he 


A   CONFIDENCE.  191 

esteems  it  a  point  of  duty  to  accompany  me.  Poor  fellow  ! 
with  all  his  faults  I  can't  help  feeling  attached  to  him  ; 
and  were  I  to  leave  him  behind  me,  what  would  become  of 
him  ?  No,  Jack ;  I  am  fully  sensible  of  all  the  incon- 
venience, all  the  ridicule  of  this  step,  but,  faith,  I  prefer 
both  to  the  embittering  reflection  I  should  have  did  I 
desert  him." 

"Why  does  he  remain  after  you,  Phil?  He'll  never 
find  his  way  to  London." 

"  Oh,  trust  him !  What  with  scolding,  cursing,  and  abus- 
ing every  one  he  meets,  he  '11  attract  notice  enough  on  the 
road  never  to  be  forgotten  or  left  behind.  But  the  fact  is, 
it  is  his  own  proposition ;  and  Corny  has  asked  for  a  few 
days'  leave  of  absence,  for  the  first  time  for  seven-and- 
twenty  years ! " 

"  And  what  the  deuce  can  that  be  for  ?  " 

"  You  'd  never  guess  if  you  tried  until  to-morrow,  —  to 
see  his  mother." 

"  Corny's  mother !     Corny  Delany's  mother ! " 

"  Just  so,  —  his  mother.  Ah,  Hinton  !  you  still  have 
much  to  learn  about  us  all  here.  And  now,  before  we  part, 
let  me  instruct  you  on  this  point, — not  that  I  pretend  to 
have  a  reason  for  it,  nor  do  I  know  that  there  is  any ;  but 
somehow  I  '11  venture  to  say  that  whenever  you  meet  with 
a  little  cross-grained,  ill-conditioned,  ill-thriven  old  fellow, 
with  a  face  as  if  carved  in  the  knot  of  a  crab-tree,  the  odds 
are  about  fifteen  to  one  that  the  little  wretch  has  a  mother 
alive.  Whether  it  is  that  the  tenacity  of  life  among  such 
people  is  greater,  or  whether  Nature  has  any  peculiar  ob- 
jects of  her  own  in  view  in  the  matter,  I  can't  say ;  but 
trust  me  for  the  fact.  And  now,  I  believe,  I  have  run  my- 
self close  to  time  ;  so  once  more,  Jack,  good-by,  and  God 
bless  you!" 

He  hurried  from  the  room  as  he  spoke,  but  as  the  door 
was  closing  I  saw  that  his  lip  trembled  and  his  cheek  was 
pale ;  while  I  leaned  against  the  window-shutter  and  looked 
after  him  with  a  heavy  and  oppressed  heart,  for  he  was  my 
first  friend  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE   CANAL-BOAT. 

In  obedience  to  O'Grady's  directions,  —  of  which,  fortu- 
nately for  me,  he  left  a  memorandum  in  writing,  —  I 
started  from  Portobello  in  the  canal-boat  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  day  after  his  departure.  The  day  was  dark  and 
lowering,  with  occasional  showers  of  cold  and  sleety  rain. 
However,  the  casual  glance  I  took  of  the  gloomy  cell,  de- 
nominated cabin,  deterred  me  from  seeking  shelter  there, 
and,  buttoned  up  in  my  great-coat  and  with  my  travelling- 
cap  drawn  firmly  over  my  eyes,  I  walked  the  deck  for 
several  hours,  my  own  thoughts  affording  me  sufficient 
occupation;  and  even  had  the  opportunity  presented  it- 
self, I  should  not  have  desired  any  other.  On  this  score, 
however,  there  was  no  temptation;  and  as  I  looked  at 
my  fellow-passengers,  there  was  nothing  either  in  their 
voice,  air,  or  appearance  to  induce  me  to  care  for  any 
closer  intimacy. 

The  majority  of  them  were  stout,  plain-looking  country 
folk,  with  coats  of  brown  or  gray  frieze,  leather  gaiters  and 
thick  shoes,  returning,  as  I  could  guess  from  some  chance 
expressions  they  dropped,  from  the  Dublin  market,  whither 
they  had  proceeded  with  certain  droves  of  bullocks,  wethers, 
and  hoggets,  the  qualities  of  which  formed  the  staple  of 
conversation.  There  were  also  some  lady  passengers,  —  one 
a  rather  good-looking  woman,  with  a  certain  air  of  half  gen- 
tility about  her,  which  enabled  her  at  times  to  display  to 
her  companion  her  profound  contempt  for  the  rest  of  the 
company.  This  companion  was  a  poor  subdued-looking 
girl  of  about  eighteen  or  twenty  years,  who  scarcely  ven- 
tured to  raise  her  haggard  eyes,  and  spoke  with  an  accent 


THE   CANAL-BOAT.  193 

painful  from  agitation ;  her  depressed  look  and  her  humble 
manner  did  not  conceal,  however,  a  certain  air  of  composed 
and  quiet  dignity,  which  spoke  of  happier  days.  A  host  of 
ill-bred,  noisy,  and  unmannerly  children  accompanied  them ; 
and  I  soon  discovered  that  the  mother  was  the  wife  of  the 
great  shopkeeper  in  Loughrea,  and  her  pale  companion  a 
governess  she  had  just  procured  in  Dublin,  to  initiate  the 
promising  offspring  in  the  accomplished  acquirements  of 
French,  Italian,  music,  and  painting.  Their  only  acquaint- 
ance on  board  seemed  to  be  a  jolly-looking  man,  who, 
although  intimate  with  every  one,  seemed  somehow  not 
to  suffer  in  the  grand  lady's  esteem  from  the  familiarities 
he  dispensed  on  all  sides.  He  was  a  short,  florid-looking 
little  fellow,  with  a  round  bullet  head,  the  features  of 
which  seemed  at  first  sight  so  incongruous  that  it  was 
difficult  to  decide  on  their  prevailing  expression ;  his  large 
gray  eyes,  which  rolled  and  twinkled  with  fun,  caught  a 
character  of  severity  from  his  heavy  overhanging  eyebrows, 
and  there  was  a  stern  determination  in  his  compressed  lips 
that  every  moment  gave  way  to  some  burst  of  jocular  good- 
humor,  as  he  accosted  one  or  other  of  his  friends.  His 
voice,  however,  was  the  most  remarkable  thing  about  him ; 
for  while  at  one  moment  he  would  declaim  in  the  full  round 
tone  of  a  person  accustomed  to  speak  in  public,  in  the  next 
he  would  drop  down  into  an  easy  and  familiar  accent,  to 
which  the  mellowness  of  his  brogue  imparted  a  raciness 
quite  peculiar.  His  dress  was  a  suit  of  rusty  black,  with 
leather  breeches  of  the  same  color,  and  high  boots.  This 
costume,  which  pronounced  him  a  priest,  might  also,  had  I 
known  more  of  the  country,  have  explained  the  secret  of 
that  universal  understanding  he  maintained  with  all  on 
board.  He  knew  every  one's  business,  whither  they  were 
going,  where  they  had  been,  what  success  had  attended 
them  in  the  market,  how  much  the  black  heifer  brought, 
what  the  pigs  were  sold  for ;  he  asked  why  Tim  did  n't 
come  to  his  duties,  and  if  Molly's  child  was  well  of  the 
measles ;  he  had  a  word  too  for  the  shopkeeper's  wife,  but 
that  was  said  in  a  whisper ;  and  then  producing  a  copper 

VOL.  I.  — 13 


194  JACK  HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

snuff-box,  about  the  size  of  a  saucer,  he  presented  it  to  me 
with  a  graceful  bow,  saying,  — 

"  This  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  had  the  honor  of  being 
your  fellow-traveller,  Captain.  We  came  over  from  Liver- 
pool together.'-" 

I  now  remembered  that  this  was  the  same  priest  whose 
controversial  powers  had  kept  me  awake  for  nearly  half 
the  night,  and  whose  convivial  ones  filled  up  the  remainder. 
I  was  delighted,  however,  to  renew  my  acquaintance ;  and 
we  soon  cemented  an  intimacy,  which  ended  in  his  propos- 
ing that  we  should  sit  together  at  dinner,  to  which  I  at 
once  assented. 

"  Dacent  people,  dacent  people,  Captain ;  but  bastes,  after 
all,  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  —  none  of  the  usage  de  society 
as  we  used  to  say  at  St.  Omer's.  No,  no;  ferce  natural, 
devil  a  more.  But  here  comes  the  dinner ;  the  owld  story, 
—  leg  of  mutton  and  turnips,  boiled  chickens  and  ham,  a 
cod  and  potatoes !  By  the  Mass,  they  would  boil  one's 
father  if  they  had  him  on  board,"  while  he  added  in  a 
whisper,  —  "  by  rason  they  can't  roast !  So  now,  will  you 
move  down,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"After  your  reverence,  if  you'll  permit.  Arma  cedant 
togce." 

"  Thrue  for  you,  my  son,  sacerdotes  priores  ;  and  though 
I  am  only  a  priest  —  " 

"  More 's  the  pity,"  said  I,  interrupting. 

"You're  right,"  said  he,  with  a  slight  pinch  of  my  arm, 
"whether  you  are  joking  or  not." 

The  dinner  Avas  not  a  very  appetizing  one,  nor  indeed 
the  company  over  seductive,  so  that  I  disappeared  with  the 
cloth,  glad  to  find  myself  once  more  in  the  open  air,  with 
the  deck  to  myself;  for  my  fellow-travellers  had,  one  and 
all,  begun  a  very  vigorous  attack  upon  sundry  jugs  of  hot 
water  and  crucibles  full  of  whiskey,  the  fumes  of  which, 
added  to  the  heat,  the  smoke,  and  other  disagreeables,  made 
me  right  happy  to  escape. 

As  the  evening  wore  late,  the  noise  and  uproar  grew 
louder  and  more  vociferous,  and  had  not  frequent  bursts 


THE   CANAL-BOAT.  195 

of  laughter  proclaimed  the  spirit  of  the  conviviality,  I 
should  have  been  tempted  to  believe  the  party  were  en- 
gaged in  deadly  strife.  Sometimes  a  single  narrator  would 
seem  to  hold  the  company  in  attentive  silence ;  then  a 
general  chorus  of  the  whole  would  break  in,  with  shouts 
of  merriment,  knocking  of  knuckles  on  the  table,  stamping 
of  feet,  and  other  signs  of  approbation  and  applause.  As 
this  had  now  continued  for  sometime,  and  it  was  already 
verging  towards  midnight,  I  began  to  grow  impatient;  for 
as  sleep  stole  over  my  eyelids  I  was  desirous  of  some  little 
quiet,  to  indulge  myself  in  a  nap.  Blessings  on  my  inno- 
cent delusion !  the  gentlemen  below  stairs  had  as  much 
notion  of  swimming  as  sleeping.  Of  this,  a  rapid  glance 
through  a  little  window  at  the  extremity  of  the  cabin  soon 
satisfied  me.  As  well  as  the  steamed  and  heated  glass 
would  permit  my  seeing,  the  scene  was  a  strange  one. 

About  forty  persons  were  seated  around  a  narrow  table, 
so  closely  packed  that  any  attitude  but  the  bolt  upright  was 
impracticable.  There  they  were,  of  every  age  and  sex; 
some  asleep,  with  Welsh  wigs  and  red  pocket-handkerchiefs 
screening  their  heads  from  cold,  and  their  ears  as  well  as 
might  be  from  uproar ;  some  were  endeavoring  to  read  by 
the  light  of  mutton  candles,  with  wicks  like  a  light  infantry 
feather,  with  a  nob  at  the  head  ;  others  with  their  heads 
bent  down  together,  were  confidentially  exchanging  the 
secrets  of  the  last  market ;  while  here  and  there  were  scat- 
tered about  little  convivial  knots  of  jolly  souls,  whose  noisy 
fun  and  loud  laughter  indicated  but  slight  respect  for  their 
drowsy  neighbors. 

The  group,  however,  which  attracted  most  of  my  attention 
was  one  near  the  fire  at  the  end.  This  consisted  of  his 
reverence  Father  Tom,  a  stout,  burly-looking  old  farmer 
opposite  him,  the  austere  lady  from  Loughrea,  and  a  little 
dried-up,  potted-herring  of  a  man,  who,  with  a  light  brown 
coat  and  standing  collar,  sat  up  perpendicularly  on  his  seat, 
and  looked  about  him  with  an  eye  as  lively  and  an  accent 
as  sharp  as  though  it  were  only  noon-day.  This  little  per- 
sonage, who   came   from   that   Irish   Pennsylvania   called 


196  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Moate,  was  endeavoring  to  maintain  a  controversy  with  the 
worthy  priest,  who,  in  addition  to  his  polemics,  was  deep  in 
a  game  of  spoiled  five  with  the  farmer,  and  carrying  on  be- 
sides another  species  of  warfare  with  his  fair  neighbor. 
The  diversity  of  all  these  occupations  might  possibly  have 
been  overmuch  for  him,  were  it  not  for  the  aid  of  a 
suspicious-looking  little  kettle  that  sat  hissing  and  rocking 
on  the  hob,  with  a  look  of  pert  satisfaction  that  convinced 
me  its  contents  were  something  stronger  than  water. 

Perceiving  a  small  space  yet  unoccupied  in  the  party,  I 
made  my  way  thither  by  the  stair  near  it,  and  soon  had 
the  satisfaction  to  find  myself  safely  installed,  without 
attracting  any  other  notice  from  the  party  than  a  proud 
stare  from  the  lady,  as  she  removed  a  little  farther  from 
beside  the  priest. 

As  to  his  reverence,  far  too  deeply  interested  in  his  im- 
mediate pursuits  to  pay  any  attention  to  me,  he  had  quite 
enough  on  his  hands  with  his  three  antagonists,  none  of 
whom  did  he  ever  for  a  moment  permit  to  edge  in  even  a 
word.  Conducting  his  varied  warfare  with  the  skill  of  a 
general,  who  made  the  artillery,  the  infantry,  and  the  cav- 
airy  of  mutual  aid  and  assistance  to  one  another,  he  con- 
tinued to  keep  the  church,  the  courtship,  and  the  cards  all 
moving  together  in  a  manner  perfectly  miraculous,  —  the 
vehemence  with  which  he  thumped  down  a  trump  upon  the 
table  serving  as  a  point  in  his  argumeut,  while  the  energy 
of  the  action  permitted  a  squeeze  of  the  lady's  hand  with 
the  other. 

"  There  ye  go,  six  of  spades  !  Play  a  spade,  av  ye  have 
one,  Mr.  Larkins  —  For  a  set  of  shrivelled  up  craytures, 
with  nothing  but  thee  and  thou  for  a  creed,  to  deny  the 
real  owld  ancient  faith  that  Saint  Peter  and  —  The  ace  of 
diamonds  !  that  tickled  you  under  the  short  ribs  —  Not 
you,  Mrs.  Carney ;  for  a  sore  time  you  have  of  it,  and  an 
angel  of  a  woman  ye  are ;  and  the  husband  that  could  be 
cruel  to  you,  and  take —  The  odd  trick  out  of  you,  Mr. 
Larkins  —  No,  no,  I  deny  it !  nego  in  omnibus,  Domine. 
What  does  Origen  say  ?     The  rock,  says  he,  is  Peter ;  and 


THE   CANAL-BOAT.  197 

if  you  translate  the  passage  without  —  Another  kettle- 
full,  if  you  please.  I  go  for  the  ten,  Misther  Larkins. 
Trumps  !  another  —  another  —  hurroo  !  By  the  tower  of 
Clonmacnoise,  I'll  beggar  the  bank  to-night.  Malhereux 
au  jeux,  heureux  en  amour,  as  we  used  to  say  formerly. 
God  forgive  us  !  " 

Whether  it  was  the  French  or  the  look  that  accompanied 
it,  I  cannot  aver,  but  certainly  the  lady  blushed  and  looked 
down.  In  vain  did  the  poor  Quaker  essay  a  word  of  expla- 
nation ;  in  vain  did  Mrs.  Carney  herself  try  to  escape  from 
the  awkward  inferences  some  of  his  allusions  seemed  to 
lead  to.  Even  the  old  farmer  saw  his  tricks  confiscated, 
and  his  games  estreated,  without  a  chance  of  recovery  ;  for, 
like  Cceur  de  Lion  with  his  iron  mace,  the  good  priest  laid 
about  him,  smashing,  slaying,  and  upsetting  all  before  him, 
and  never  giving  his  adversaries  a  moment  to  recover  from 
one  blow  ere  he  dealt  another  at  their  heads. 

"  To  be  sure,  Mrs.  Carney,  and  why  not  ?  It 's  as  mild 
as  mother's  milk.  Come,  owld  square-toes,  take  a  thimble- 
full  of  it,  and  maybe  it  '11  lead  you  to  a  better  understand- 
ing. I  play  the  five  fingers,  Mr.  Larkins.  There  goes 
Jack,  my  jewel !  Play  to  that,  —  the  trick  is  mine.  Don't 
be  laughing ;  I've  a  bit  of  fat  in  the  heel  of  my  fist  for 
you  yet.  There  now,  what  are  you  looking  at  ?  Don't  you 
see  the  cards  ?  Troth,  you  're  as  bad  as  the  Quaker ;  you 
won't  believe  your  own  eyes  —  And  ye  see,  ma'am  "  (here 
he  whispered  something  in  the  lady's  ear  for  a  few  seconds, 
adding,  as  he  concluded),  "and  thim,  Mrs.  Carney,  thim 's 
the  rights  of  the  Church  —  Friends,  indeed  !  ye  call  your- 
selves friends  !  Faix,  ye  're  the  least  social  friends  I  ever 
forgathered  with,  even  if  the  bare  look  of  you  was  n't  an 
antidote  to  all  kinds  of  amusements  —  Cut,  Mr.  Lar- 
kins —  And  its  purgatory  ye  don't  like  ?  Ye  know  what 
Father  O'Leary  said,  '  Some  of  ye  may  go  farther  and  fare 
worse,'  not  to  speak  of  what  a  place  heaven  would  be,  with 
the  likes  of  you  in  it !  —  Av  it  was  Mrs.  Carney,  indeed. 
Yes,  Mary,  your  own  beautiful  self,  that 's  fit  to  be  an 
angel  any  day,  and  discoorse  with  angels  —     Howld,  av  you 


198  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

please ;  I  've  a  club  for  that  —  Don't  you  see  what  non- 
sense you  're  talking,  —  the  little  kittle  is  laughing  at 
you  —  What 's  that  you  're  mumbling  about  my  time  of 
life  ?  Show  me  the  man  that  '11  carry  twelve  tumblers 
with  me  ;  show  me  the  man  that  '11  cross  a  country ;  show 
me  the  man  that  '11  —  Never  mind,  Mrs.  Carney  —  Time 
of  life,  indeed !     Faix,  I  '11  give  you  a  song." 

With  these  words,  the  priest  pushed  the  cards  aside,  re- 
plenished the  glasses,  and  began  the  following  melody  to 
an  air  much  resembling  "  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley : "  — 

To  morrow  I  '11  just  be  three-score; 

May  never  worse  fortune  betide  me 
Than  to  have  a  hot  tumbler  before, 

And  a  beautiful  crayture  beside  me! 
If  this  world 's  a  stage,  as  they  say, 

And  that  men  are  the  actors,  I  'm  certain, 
In  the  after-piece  I  'd  like  to  play, 

And  be  there  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain. 
Whack !  fol  lol. 

"  No,  no,  Mrs.  Carney,  I  '11  take  the  vestment  on  it,  noth- 
ing of  the  kind ;  the  allusion  is  most  discreet ;  but  there  is 

more." 

For  the  pleasures  of  youth  are  a  flam  ; 

To  try  them  again,  pray  excuse  me  ; 
I  'd  rather  be  priest  that  I  am, 

With  the  rites  of  the  Church  to  amuse  me. 
Sure,  there 's  nought  like  a  jolly  old  age, 

And  the  patriarchs  knew  this,  it  said  is ; 
For  though  they  looked  sober  and  sage, 

Faith,  they  had  their  own  fun  with  the  ladies ! 
Whack!  fol  lol. 

"Come,  now,  Captain,  you  are  a  man  that  knows  his 
humanities  ;  I  '11  be  judged  by  you." 

"  I  protest,"  said  I,  laughingly.  "  I  'd  rather  pronounce 
on  your  punch  than  your  polemics." 

"  No,  would  you  though  ?  "  said  the  priest,  with  a  joyous 
twinkle  in  his  eye  that  showed  which  controversy  had  more 
attraction  for  him.  "  Faix,  then,  you  shall  have  a  fair  trial. 
Reach  me  that  glass,  Mr.  Larkins  ;    and  if  it  is  n't  sweet 


THE   CANAL-BOAT.  199 

enough,  maybe  Mrs.  Carney  would  stir  it  for  you  with  her 
finger.  There,  now,  we  '11  be  comfortable  and  social,  and 
have  no  more  bother  about  creeds  nor  councils ;  for  although 
it  is  only  child's  play  for  me  to  demolish  a  hundred  like 
you,  I  'd  rather  be  merciful,  and  leave  you,  like  Alexander 
the  coppersmith,  to  get  the  reward  of  your  works." 

Whether  it  was  the  polite  attention  bestowed  upon  me 
by  his  reverence,  or  that  the  magical  word  "  Captain  "  —  so 
generic  for  all  things  military  in  Ireland  —  had  its  effect, 
or  that  any  purely  personal  reasons  were  the  cause,  I  can- 
not aver ;  but  certainly  Mrs.  Carney's  manner  became  won- 
derfully softened.  She  smiled  at  me  slyly  when  the  priest 
was  n't  looking,  and  vouchsafed  an  inquiry  as  to  whether  I 
had  ever  served  in  the  Roscommon  yeomanry. 

The  kettle  once  more  sent  forth  its  fragrant  steam,  the 
glasses  were  filled,  the  vanquished  Quaker  had  extinguished 
both  himself  and  his  argument  beneath  his  broad  beaver ; 
and  Father  Tom,  with  a  glance  of  pleasure  at  the  party, 
pronounced  our  arrangements  perfect,  and  suggested  a  round 
game  by  way  of  passing  the  time. 

"We  are  now,"  said  he,  "on  the  long  level  for  eighteen 
miles  ;  there 's  neither  a  lock  nor  a  town  to  disturb  us. 
Give  Mrs.  Carney  the  cards." 

The  proposition  was  met  with  hearty  approval ;  and  thus 
did  I,  Lieutenant  Hinton  of  the  Grenadier  Guards,  extra 
aide-de-camp  to  the  viceroy,  discover  myself  at  four  in  the 
morning  engaged  at  a  game  of  loo,  whose  pecuniary  limits 
were  fourpence,  but  whose  boundaries  as  to  joke  and  broad 
humor  were  wide  as  the  great  Atlantic.  Day  broke,  and 
I  found  myself  richer  by  some  tumblers  of  the  very  strong- 
est whiskey  punch,  a  confounded  headache,  and  two-and- 
eightpence  in  bad  copper  jingling  in  my  pocket. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SHANNON  HARBOR. 

Little  does  he  know  who  voyages  in  a  canal-boat,  dragged 
along  some  three  miles  and  a  half  per  hour  ignominiously 
at  the  tails  of  two  ambling  hackneys,  what  pride,  pomp,  and 
circumstance  await  him  at  the  first  town  he  enters.  Seated 
on  the  deck,  watching  with  a  Dutchman's  apathy  the  sedgy 
banks,  whose  tall  naggers  bow  their  heads  beneath  the  ripple 
that  eddies  from  the  bow, — now  lifting  his  eyes  from  earth 
to  sky,  with  nothing  to  interest,  nothing  to  attract  him, 
turning  from  the  gaze  of  the  long  dreary  tract  of  bog  and 
moorland  to  look  upon  his  fellow-travellers,  whose  features 
are  perhaps  neither  more  striking  nor  more  pleasing,  —  the 
monotonous  jog  of  the  postillion  before,  the  impassive 
placidity  of  the  helmsman  behind;  the  lazy  smoke  that 
seems  to  lack  energy  to  issue  from  the  little  chimney ;  the 
brown  and  leaden  look  of  all  around, — have  something 
dreamy  and  sleep-compelling,  almost  impossible  to  resist. 
And  already,  as  the  voyager  droops  his  head,  and  lets  fall 
his  eyelids,  a  confused  and  misty  sense  of  some  everlasting 
journey,  toilsome,  tedious,  and  slow,  creeps  over  his  be- 
sotted faculties ;  when  suddenly  the  loud  bray  of  the  horn 
breaks  upon  his  ears,  the  sound  is  re-echoed  from  a  dis- 
tance, the  far-off  tinkle  of  a  bell  is  borne  along  the  water, 
and  he  sees  before  him,  as  if  conjured  up  by  some  magi- 
cian's wand,  the  roofs  and  chimneys  of  a  little  village. 
Meanwhile,  the  excitement  about  him  increases ;  the  deck 
is  lumbered  with  hampers  and  boxes  and  parcels,  the  note 
of  departure  to  many  a  cloaked  and  frieze-coated  passenger 
has  rung,  —  for  strange  as  it  may  seem,  in  that  little  assem- 
blage of  mud  hovels,  with  their  dung-hills  and  their  duck- 


SHANNON   HARBOR.  201 

%  pools  around  them,  with  its  one  slated  house  and  its  square 
chapel,  there  are  people  who  live  there  ;  and  stranger  still, 
some  of  those  who  have  left  it,  and  seen  other  places,  are 
going  back  "there  again,  to  drag  on  life  as  before.  But  the 
plot  is  thickening ;  the  large  brass  bell  at  the  stern  of  the 
boat  is  thundering  away  with  its  clanging  sound,  the  banks 
are  crowded  with  people';  and  as  if  to  favor  the  melo- 
dramatic magic  of  the  scene,  the  track-rope  is  cast  off,  the 
weary  posters  trot  away  towards  their  stable,  and  the 
stately  barge  floats  on  to  its  destined  haven  without  the  aid 
of  any  visible  influence.  He  who  watches  the  look  of 
proud,  important  bearing  that  beams  upon  "the  captain's" 
face  at  a  moment  like  this,  may  philosophize  upon  the 
charms  of  that  power  which  man  wields  above  his  fellow- 
men.  Such,  at  least,  were  some  of  my  reflections ;  and  I 
could  not  help  muttering  to  myself,  if  a  man  like  this  feels 
pride  of  station,  what  a  glorious  service  must  be  the  navy ! 

Watching  with  interest  the  nautical  skill  with  which, 
having  fastened  a  rope  to  the  stern,  the  boat  was  swung 
round  with  her  head  in  the  direction  from  whence  she 
came,  intimating  thereby  the  monotonous  character  of  her 
avogations,  I  did  not  perceive  that  one  by  one  the  passen- 
gers were  taking  their  departure. 

"Good-by,  Captain,"  cried  Father  Tom,  as  he  extended 
his  ample  hand  to  me ;  "  we  '11  meet  again  in  Loughrea. 
I'm  going  on  Mrs.  Carney's  car,  or  I'd  be  delighted  to  join 
you  in  a  conveyance ;  but  you  '11  easily  get  one  at  the 
hotel." 

I  had  barely  time  to  thank  the  good  father  for  his  kind 
advice,  when  I  perceived  him  adjusting  various  duodecimo 
Carneys  in  the  well  of  the  car,  and  then  having  carefully 
included  himself  in  the  frieze-coat  that  wrapped  Mrs.  Carney, 
he  gave  the  word  to  drive  on. 

As  the  day  following  was  the  time  appointed  for  naming 
the  horses  and  the  riders,  I  had  no  reason  for  haste. 
Loughrea,  from  what  I  had  heard,  was  a  commonplace 
country  town,  in  which,  as  in  all  similar  places,  every  new- 
comer was  canvassed  with  a  prying  and  searching  curiosity. 


202  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

I  resolved,  therefore,  to  stop  where  I  was ;  not,  indeed,  that 
the  scenery  possessed  any  attractions.  A  prospect  more 
bleak,  more  desolate,  and  more  barren  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  conceive,  —  a  wide  river  with  low  and  reedy  banks, 
moving  sluggishly  on  its  yellow  current,  between  broad 
tracts  of  bog  or  callow  meadow-land ;  no  trace  of  cultiva- 
tion, not  even  a  tree,  was  to  be  seen. 

Such  is  Shannon  Harbor.  No  matter,  thought  I,  the 
hotel  at  least  looks  well.  This  consolatory  reflection  of 
mine  was  elicited  by  the  prospect  of  a  large  stone-building 
of  some  stories  high,  whose  granite  portico  and  wide  steps 
stood  in  strange  contrast  to  the  miserable  mud-hovels  that 
flanked  it  on  either  side.  It  was  a  strange  thought  to  have 
placed  such  a  building  in  such  a  situation.  I  dismissed  the 
ungrateful  notion,  as  I  remembered  my  own  position,  and 
how  happy  I  felt  to  accept  its  hospitality. 

A  solitary  jaunting-car  stood  on  the  canal  side,  —  the 
poorest  specimen  of  its  class  I  had  ever  seen.  The  car  —  a 
few  boards  cobbled  up  by  some  country  carpenter  —  seemed 
to  threaten  disunion  even  with  the  coughing  of  the  wretched 
beast  that  wheezed  between  its  shafts ;  while  the  driver,  an 
emaciated  creature  of  any  age  from  sixteen  to  sixty,  sat 
shivering  upon  the  seat,  striking  from  time  to  time  with 
his  whip  at  the  flies  that  played  about  the  animal's  ears,  as 
though  anticipating  their  prey. 

"  Banagher,  yer  honor  ?  Loughrea,  sir  ?  Eowl  ye  over 
in  an  hour  and  a  half.     Is  it  Portumna,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  my  good  friend,"  replied  I,  "  I  stop  at  the  hotel." 

Had  I  proposed  to  take  a  sail  down  the  Shannon  on  my 
portmanteau,  I  don't  think  the  astonishment  could  have 
been  greater.  The  bystanders,  and  they  were  numerous 
enough  by  this  time,  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  ex- 
pressions of  mingled  surprise  and  dread ;  and  indeed  had  I, 
like  some  sturdy  knight-errant  of  old,  announced  my  deter- 
mination to  pass  the  night  in  a  haunted  chamber,  more 
unequivocal  evidences  of  their  admiration  and  fear  could 
not  have  been  evoked. 

"  In  the  hotel !  "  said  one. 


SHANNON   HARBOR.  203 

"  He  is  going  to  stop  at  the  hotel !  "  cried  another. 

"Blessed  hour!"  said  a  third;  "wonders  will  never 
cease  ! " 

Short  as 'had  been  my  residence  in  Ireland,  it  had  at 
least  taught  me  one  lesson,  —  never  to  be  surprised  at  any- 
thing I  met  with.  So  many  views  of  life  peculiar  to  the 
land  met  me  at  every  turn,  so  many  strange  prejudices,  so 
many  singular  notions,  that  were  I  to  apply  my  previous 
knowledge  of  the  world,  such  as  it  was,  to  my  guidance 
here,  I  should  be  like  a  man  endeavoring  to  sound  the 
depths  of  the  sea  with  an  instrument  intended  to  ascertain 
the  distance  of  a  star.  Leaving,  therefore,  to  time  the  ex- 
planation of  the  mysterious  astonishment  around  me,  I  gath- 
ered together  my  luggage,  and  left  the  boat. 

The  first  impressions  of  a  traveller  are  not  uncommonly 
his  best.  The  finer  and  more  distinctive  features  of  a  land 
require  deep  study  and  long  acquaintance,  but  the  broader 
traits  of  nationality  are  caught  in  an  instant,  or  not  caught 
at  all.  Familiarity  with  destroys  them,  and  it  is  only  at 
first  blush  that  we  learn  to  appreciate  them  with  force. 
Who  that  has  landed  at  Calais,  at  Eotterdam,  or  at  Leg- 
horn, has  not  felt  this?  The  Flemish  peasant  with  her 
long-eared  cap  and  heavy  sabots,  the  dark  Italian  basking 
his  swarthy  features  in  the  sun,  are  striking  objects  when 
we  first  look  on  them  ;  but  days  and  weeks  roll  on,  the 
wider  characteristics  of  human  nature  swallow  up  the 
smaller  and  more  narrow  features  of  nationality,  and  in 
a  short  time  we  forget  that  the  things  which  have  sur- 
prised us  at  first  are  not  what  we  have  been  used  to  from 
our  infancy. 

Gifted  with  but  slender  powers  of  observation,  such  as 
they  were,  this  was  to  me  always  a  moment  of  their  exer- 
cise. "How  often  in  the  rural  districts  of  my  own  country 
had  the  air  of  cheery  comfort  and  healthy  contentment 
spoken  to  my  heart;  how  frequently,  in  the  manufactur- 
ing ones,  had  the  din  of  hammers,  the  black  smoke,  or  the 
lurid  flame  of  furnaces  turned  my  thoughts  to  those  great 
sources  of  our  national  wealth,  and  made  me  look  on  every 


204  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

dark  and  swarthy  face  that  passed  as  on  one  who  minis- 
tered to  his  country's  weal !  But  now  I  was  to  view  a  new 
and  very  different  scene.  Scarcely  had  I  put  foot  on  shore 
when  the  whole  population  of  the  village  thronged  around 
rne.  What  are  these,  thought  I  ?  What  art  do  they  prac- 
tice ;  what  trade  do  they  profess  ?  Alas  !  their  wan  looks, 
their  tattered  garments,  their  outstretched  hands  and  im- 
ploring voices  gave  the  answer,  —  they  were  all  beggars  ! 
It  was  not  as  if  the  old,  the  decrepit,  the  sickly,  or  the  feeble 
had  fallen  on  the  charity  of  their  fellow-men  in  their  hour 
of  need;  but  here  were  all  —  all,  —  the  old  man  and  the  in- 
fant, the  husband  and  the  wife,  the  aged  grandfather  and 
the  tottering  grandchild,  the  white  locks  of  youth,  the 
whiter  hairs  of  age,  pale,  pallid,  and  sickly,  —  trembling  be- 
tween starvation  and  suspense,  watching  with  the  hectic 
eye  of  fever  every  gesture  of  him  on  whom  their  momen- 
tary hope  was  fixed ;  canvassing,  in  muttered  tones,  every 
step  of  his  proceeding,  and  hazarding  a  doubt  upon  its 
bearing  on  their  own  fate. 

"  Oh,  the  heavens  be  your  bed,  noble  gentleman  !  look  at 
me !  The  Lord  reward  you  for  the  little  sixpence  that 
you  have  in  your  fingers  there  !  I  'm  the  mother  of  ten 
of  them." 

"  Billy  Cronin,  yer  honor ;  I  'm  dark  since  I  was  nine 
years  old." 

"  I  'm  the  ouldest  man  in  the  town-land,"  said  an  old 
fellow  with  a  white  beard,  and  a  blanket  strapped  round 
him. 

While  bursting  through  the  crowd  came  a  strange  odd- 
looking  figure,  in  a  huntsman's  coat  and  cap,  but  both  so 
patched  and  tattered  it  was  difficult  to  detect  their  color. 
"  Here 's  Joe,  your  honor,"  cried  he,  putting  his  hand  to  his 
mouth  at  the  same  moment.  "  Tally  ho  !  ye  ho  !  ye  ho !  " 
he  shouted,  with  a  mellow  cadence  I  never  heard  surpassed. 
"  Yow !  yow  !  yow  ! "  he  cried,  imitating  the  barking  of 
dogs,  and  then  uttering  a  long  low  wail,  like  the  bay  of  a 
hound,  he  shouted  out,  "  Hark  away  !  hark  away  ! "  and  at 
the  same  moment  pranced  into  the  thickest  of  the  crowd, 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


SHANNON   HARBOR.  205 

upsetting  men,  women,  and  children  as  he  went,  —  the  curses 
of  some,  the  cries  of  others,  and  the  laughter  of  nearly  all 
ringing  through  the  motley  mass,  making  their  misery  look 
still  more  frightful. 

Throwing  what  silver  I  had  about  me  amongst  them,  I 
made  my  way  towards  the  hotel,  —  not  alone,  however,  but 
heading  a  procession  of  my  ragged  friends,  who  with  loud 
praises  of  my  liberality  testified  their  gratitude  by  bearing 
me  company.  Arrived  at  the  porch,  I  took  my  luggage 
from  the  carrier,  and  entered  the  house.  Unlike  any  other 
hotel  I  had  ever  seen,  there  was  neither  stir  nor  bustle,  — 
no  burly  landlord,  no  buxom  landlady,  no  dapper  waiter  with 
napkin  on  his  arm,  no  pert-looking  chambermaid  with  a 
bed-room  candlestick.  A  large  hall,  dirty  and  unfurnished, 
led  into  a  kind  of  bar,  upon  whose  unpainted  shelves  a  few 
straggling  bottles  were  ranged  together,  with  some  pewter 
measures  and  tobacco  pipes ;  while  the  walls  were  covered 
with  placards,  setting  forth  the  regulations  for  the  Grand 
Canal  Hotel,  with  a  list,  copious  and  abundant,  of  all  the 
good  things  to  be  found  therein,  with  the  prices  annexed, 
and  a  pressing  entreaty  to  the  traveller,  should  he  not  feel 
satisfied  with  his  reception,  to  mention  it  in  a  "  book  kept 
for  that  purpose  by  the  landlord."  I  cast  my  eye  along  the 
bill  of  fare  so  ostentatiously  put  forth;  I  read  of  rump- 
steaks  and  roast  fowls,  of  red  rounds  and  sirloins,  and  I 
turned  from  the  spot  resolved  to  explore  farther.  The  room 
opposite  was  large  and  spacious,  and  probably  destined  for 
the  coffee-room,  but  it  also  was  empty ;  it  had  neither  chair 
nor  table,  and  save  a  pictorial  representation  of  a  canal-boat 
drawn  by  some  native  artist  with  a  burnt  stick  upon  the 
wall,  it  had  no  decoration.  Having  amused  myself  with 
the  "  Lady  Caher,"  such  was  the  vessel  called,  I  again  set 
forth  on  my  voyage  of  discovery,  and  bent  my  steps  towards 
the  kitchen.  Alas  !  my  success  was  no  better  there.  The 
goodly  grate,  before  which  should  have  stood  some  of  that 
luscious  fare  of  which  I  had  been  reading,  was  cold  and  de- 
serted ;  in  one  corner,  it  was  true,  three  sods  of  earth,  scarce 
lighted,  supported  an  antiquated  kettle,  whose  twisted  spout 


206  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

was  turned  up  with  a  misanthropic  curl  at  the  misery  of  its 
existence.  I  ascended  the  stairs,  my  footsteps  echoiug  along 
the  silent  corridor ;  but  still  no  trace  of  human  habitant 
could  I  see,  and  I  began  to  believe  that  even  the  landlord 
had  departed  with  the  larder. 

At  this  moment  the  low  murmur  of  voices  caught  my  ear. 
I  listened,  and  could  distinctly  catch  the  sound  of  persons 
talking  together  at  the  end  of  the  corridor.  Following 
along  this,  I  came  to  a  door,  at  which  having  knocked 
twice  with  my  knuckles  I  waited  for  the  invitation  to 
enter.  Either  indisposed  to  admit  me,  or  not  having 
heard  my  summons,  they  did  not  reply;  so  turning  the 
handle  gently,  I  opened  the  door,  and  entered  the  room 
unobserved.  For  some  minutes  I  profited  but  little  by 
this  step:  the  apartment,  a  small  one,  was  literally  full 
of  smoke,  and  it  was  only  when  I  had  wiped  the  tears  from 
my  eyes  three  times  that  I  at  length  began  to  recognize  the 
objects  before  me. 

Seated  upon  two  low  stools,  beside  a  miserable  fire  of 
green  wood  that  smoked,  not  blazed,  upon  the  hearth,  were 
a  man  and  a  woman.  Between  them  a  small  and  rickety 
table  supported  a  tea  equipage  of  the  humblest  description, 
and  a  plate  of  fish  whose  odor  pronounced  them  red  her- 
rings. Of  the  man  I  could  see  but  little,  as  his  back  was 
turned  toward  me;  but  had  it  been  otherwise,  I  could 
scarcely  have  withdrawn  my  looks  from  the  figure  of  his 
companion.  Never  had  my  eyes  fallen  on  an  object  so 
strange  and  so  unearthly.  She  was  an  old  woman,  so  old, 
indeed,  as  to  have  numbered  nearly  a  hundred  years ;  her 
head  uncovered  by  cap  or  quoif  displayed  a  mass  of  white 
hair,  that  hung  down  her  back  and  shoulders,  and  even 
partly  across  her  face,  not  sufficiently  however  to  conceal 
two  dark  orbits,  within  which  her  dimmed  eyes  faintly 
glimmered ;  her  nose  was  thin  and  pointed  and  projecting 
to  the  very  mouth,  which,  drawn  backwards  at  the  angles 
by  the  tense  muscles,  wore  an  expression  of  hideous  laugh- 
ter. Over  her  coarse  dress  of  some  country  stuff  she  wore, 
for  warmth,  the  cast-off  coat  of  a  soldier,  giving  to  her  un- 


SHANNON   HARBOR.  207 

couth  figure  the  semblance  of  an  aged  baboon  at  a  village- 
show.  Her  voice,  broken  with  coughing,  was  a  low  feeble 
treble,  that  seemed  to  issue  from  passages  where  lingering 
life  had"  left  scarce  a  trace  of  vitality ;  and  yet  she  talked 
on,  without  ceasing,  and  moved  her  skinny  fingers  among 
the  tea-cups  and  knives  upon  the  table,  with  a  fidgety  rest- 
lessness, as  though  in  search  of  something. 

"  There,  acushla,  don't  smoke ;  don't  now  !  Sure  it  is  the 
ruin  of  your  complexion.  I  never  see  boys  take  to  tobacco 
this  way  when  I  was  young." 

"  Whisht,  Mother,  and  don't  be  bothering  me  ! "  was  the 
cranky  reply,  given  in  a  voice  which,  strange  to  say,  was 
not  quite  unknown  to  me. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  old  crone;  "always  the  same, — 
never  mindin'  a  word  I  say ;  and  maybe  in  a  few  years  I 
won't  be  to  the  fore  to  look  after  you  and  watch  you." 

Here  the  painful  thought  of  leaving  a  world  so  full  of  its 
seductions  and  sweets  seemed  too  much  for  her  feelings, 
and  she  began  to  cry.  Her  companion,  however,  appeared 
but  little  affected,  but  puffed  away  his  pipe  at  his  ease, 
waiting  with  patience  till  the  paroxysm  was  past. 

"There,  now,"  said  the  old  lady,  brightening  up,  "take 
away  the  tay-things,  and  you  may  go  and  take  a  run  on 
the  common ;  but  mind  you  don't  be  pelting  Jack  Moore's 
goose ;  and  take  care  of  Bryan's  sow,  she  is  as  wicked  as  the 
divil  now  that  she  has  boneens  after  her.  D  'ye  hear  me, 
darlin,'  or  is  it  sick  you  are?  Och,  wirra!  wirra!  What's 
the  matter  with  you,  Corny  mabouchal  ?  " 

"  Corny  !  "  exclaimed  I,  forgetful  of  my  incognito. 

"Ay,  Corny!  nayther  more  nor  less  than  Corny  himself," 
said  that  redoubted  personage,  as  rising  to  his  legs  he  de- 
posited his  pipe  upon  the  table,  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  and  seemed  prepared  to  give  battle. 

"  Oh,  Corny,"  said  I,  "  I  am  delighted  to  find  you  here. 
Perhaps  you  can  assist  me.     I  thought  this  was  a  hotel." 

"  And  why  would  n't  you  think  it  a  hotel  ?  Has  n't  it  a 
bar  and  a  coffee-room  ?  Is  n't  the  regulations  of  the  house 
printed,  and  stuck  up  on  all  the  walls  ?     Ay,  that 's  what 


208  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

the  directors  did, — put  the  price  on  everything,  as  if  one 
was  going  to  cheat  the  people.  And  signs  on  it,  look  at 
the  place  now  !     Ugh !  the  Haythins  !  the  Turks  ! " 

"Yes,  indeed,  Corny,  look  at  the  place  now!"  glad  to  have 
an  opportunity  to  chime  in  with  iny  friend's  opinions. 

"Well,  and  look  at  it,"  replied  he,  bristling  up;  "and 
what  have  you  to  say  agin  it  ?  Is  n't  it  the  Grand  Canal 
Hotel  ?  " 

"Yes;  but,"  said  I,  conciliatingly,  "a  hotel  ought  at  least 
to  have  a  landlord,  or  a  landlady." 

"And  what  do  you  call  my  mother  there?"  said  he,  with 
indignant  energy. 

"Don't  bate  Corny,  sir!  don't  strike  the  child!"  screamed 
the  old  woman,  in  an  accent  of  heart-rending  terror.  "Sure, 
he  does  n't  know  what  he  is  saying." 

"  He  is  telling  me  it  is  n't  the  Grand  Canal  Hotel,  Mother ! " 
shouted  Corny  in  the  old  lady's  ears,  while  at  the  same  mo- 
ment he  burst  into  a  fit  of  most  discordant  laughter.  By 
some  strange  sympathy  the  old  woman  joined  in;  and  I 
myself,  unable  to  resist  the  ludicrous  effect  of  a  scene  which 
still  had  touched  my  feelings,  gave  way  also,  and  thus  we 
all  three  laughed  on  for  several  minutes. 

Suddenly  recovering  himself  in  the  midst  of  his  cachin- 
nations,  Corny  turned  briskly  round,  fixed  his  fiery  eyes 
upon  me,  and  said,  — 

"  And  did  you  come  all  the  way  from  town  to  laugh  at 
my  mother  and  me  ?  " 

I  hastened  to  exonerate  myself  from  such  a  charge,  and 
in  a  few  words  informed  him  of  the  object  of  my  journey, 
whither  I  was  going,  and  under  what  painful  delusion  I 
labored  in  supposing  the  internal  arrangements  of  the 
Grand  Canal  Hotel  bore  any  relation  to  its  imposing 
exterior. 

"  I  thought  I  could  have  dined  here." 
"  No,  you  can't,"  was  the  reply,  "  av  ye  're  not  fond  of 
herrins." 

"  And  had  a  bed  too." 

"  Nor  that  either,  av  ye  don't  like  straw." 


SHANNON  HARBOR.  209 

"And  has  your  mother  nothing  better  than  that?  "  said 
I,  pointing  to  the  miserable  plate  of  fish. 

"  Whisht,  I  tell  you,  and  don't  be  putting  the  like  in  her 
head ;  sometimes  she  hears  as  well  as  you  or  me."  Here 
he  dropped  his  voice  to  a  whisper  :  "  Herrins  is  so  cheap 
that  we  always  make  her  believe  it 's  Lent ;  this  is  nine 
years  now  she's  fasting."  Here  a  fit  of  laughing  at  the 
success  of  this  innocent  ruse  again  broke  from  Corny,  in 
which,  as  before,  his  mother  joined. 

"  Then  what  am  I  to  do,"  asked  I,  "  if  I  can  get  nothing 
to  eat  here  ?     Is  there  no  other  house  in  the  village  ?  " 

"  No,  devil  a  one." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Lough  rea  ?  " 

"  Fourteen  miles  and  a  bit." 

"  I  can  get  a  car,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Ay,  if  Mary  Doolan's  boy  is  not  gone  back." 

The  old  woman,  whose  eyes  were  impatiently  fixed  upon 
me  during  this  colloquy,  but  who  heard  not  a  word  of  what 
was  going  forward,  now  broke  in :  — 

"  Why  does  n't  he  pay  the  bill  and  go  away  ?  Devil  a 
farthing  I  '11  take  off  it.  Sure,  av  ye  were  a  raal  gentleman 
ye  'd  be  givin'  a  fippenny-bit  to  the  gossoon  there,  that 
sarved  you.  Never  mind,  Corny  dear ;  I  '11  buy  a  bag  of 
marbles  for  you  at  Banagher." 

Fearful  of  once  more  giving  way  to  unseasonable  mirth  I 
rushed  from  the  room  and  hurried  downstairs ;  the  crowd 
that  had  so  lately  accompanied  me  was  now  scattered,  each 
to  his  several  home.  The  only  one  who  lingered  near  the 
door  was  the  poor  idiot  (for  such  he  was)  that  wore  the 
huntsman's  dress. 

"  Is  the  Loughrea  car  gone,  Joe  ?  "  said  I,  for  I  remem- 
bered his  name. 

"  She  is,  yer  honor,  she 's  away." 

"Is  there  any  means  of  getting  over  to-night  ?  " 

"  Barrin'  walkin',  there 's  none." 

"  Ay ;  but,"  said  I,  "  were  I  even  disposed  for  that,  I 
have  got  my  luggage." 

"  Is  it  heavy  ?  "  said  Joe. 

VOL.  I.  —  u 


210  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  This  portmanteau  and  the  carpet-bag  you  see  there." 

"  I  '11  carry  them,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  You  '11  not  be  able,  my  poor  fellow,"  said  I. 

"  Ay,  and  you  on  the  top  of  them." 

"  You  don't  know  how  heavy  I  am,"  said  I,  laughingly. 

"  Be  gorra,  I  wish  you  was  heavier." 

"  And  why  so,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Because  one  that  was  so  good  to  the  poor  is  worth  his 
weight  in  goold  any  day." 

I  do  not  pretend  to  say  whether  it  was  the  flattery,  or 
the  promise  these  words  gave  me  of  an  agreeable  companion 
en  route  ;  but,  certain  it  is,  I  at  once  closed  with  his  pro- 
posal, and  with  a  ceremonious  bow  to  the  Grand  Canal 
Hotel,  took  my  departure,  and  set  out  for  Loughrea. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LOUGHREA. 

With  the  innate  courtesy  of  his  country,  my  humble 
companion  endeavored  to  lighten  the  road  by  song  and 
story.  There  was  not  a  blackened  gable,  not  a  ruined 
tower,  not  even  a  well  we  passed,  without  its  legend.  The 
very  mountains  themselves,  that  reared  their  mighty  peaks 
towards  the  clouds,  had  their  tale  of  superstitious  horror ; 
and  though  these  stories  were  simple  in  themselves,  there 
was  something  in  the  association  of  the  scene,  something  in 
the  warm  fervor  of  his  enthusiasm  that  touched  and  thrilled 
my  heart. 

Like  a  lamp,  whose  fitful  glare  flickers  through  the 
gloomy  vault  of  some  rocky  cavern,  too  feeble  to  illumine 
it,  but  yet  calling  up  wild  and  goblin  shapes  on  every  side, 
and  peopling  space  with  flickering  spectres,  so  did  the  small 
modicum  of  intellect  this  poor  fellow  possessed  enable  him 
to  look  at  life  with  strange,  distorted  views.  Accustomed 
to  pass  his  days  in  the  open  air,  —  the  fields,  the  flowers, 
the  streams,  his  companions, — he  had  a  sympathy  in  the 
eddying  current  that  flowed  on  beneath,  in  the  white  cloud 
that  rolled  above  him.  Happy,  for  he  had  no  care,  he  jour- 
neyed about  from  one  county  to  another.  In  the  hunting- 
season  he  would  be  seen  lounging  about  a  kennel,  making 
or  renewing  his  intimacy  with  the  dogs,  who  knew  and 
loved  him ;  then  he  was  always  ready  to  carry  a  drag,  to 
stop  an  earth,  or  do  a  hundred  other  of  those  minor  services 
that  are  ever  wanted.  Many  who  lived  far  from  a  post- 
town  knew  the  comfort  of  falling  in  with  poor  "  Tipperary 
Joe,"  for  such  was  he  called.  Not  more  fleet  of  foot  than 
honest  in   heart,  oftentimes  was  a  letter   intrusted  to  his 


212  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

keeping  that  with  any  other  messenger  would  have  excited 
feelings  of  anxiety.  His  was  an  April-day  temperament, — 
ever  varying,  ever  changing.  One  moment  would  he  tell, 
with  quivering  lip  and  broken  voice,  some  story  of  wild 
and  thrilling  interest ;  the  next,  breaking  suddenly  off,  he 
would  burst  out  into  some  joyous  rant,  generally  ending  in 
a  loud  "tallyho,"  in  which  all  his  enthusiasm  would  shine 
forth,  and  in  his  glistening  eye  and  flushed  cheek  one  could 
mark  the  pleasure  that  stirred  his  heart.  He  knew  every 
one,  not  only  in  this  but  in  the  surrounding  counties ;  and 
they  stood  severally  classed  in  his  estimation  by  their  be- 
nevolence to  the  poor,  and  their  prowess  in  the  hunting- 
field.  These  with  him  were  the  two  great  qualities  of 
mankind.  The  kind  man  and  the  bold  rider  made  his  beau 
ideal  of  all  that  was  excellent ;  and  it  was  strange  to  watch 
with  what  ingenuity  he  could  support  his  theory. 

"  There  's  Burton  Pearse,  —  that 's  the  darling  of  a  man  ! 
It 's  he  that 's  good  to  the  poor,  and  takes  his  walls  flying. 
It  is  n't  a  lock  of  bacon  or  a  bag  of  meal  he  cares  for,  be 
gorra ;  it 's  not  that,  nor  a  double  ditch  would  ever  stop 
him.  Hurroo  !  I  think  I  'm  looking  at  him  throwing  up 
his  whip-hand  this  way,  going  over  a  gate  and  calling  out 
to  the  servant,  '  Make  Joe  go  in  for  his  dinner,  and  give 
him  half-a-crown,'  —  devil  a  less  !  And  then  there  's  Mr. 
Power  of  Kilfane,  —  maybe  your  honor  knows  him  ? 
Down  in  Kilkenny,  there.  He 's  another  of  them,  —  one  of 
the  right  sort.  I  wish  ye  seen  him  facing  a  leap :  a  little 
up  in  his  stirrups,  just  to  look  over  and  see  the  ground,  and 
then  —  hoo  !  he 's  across  and  away.  A  beautiful  place  he 
has  of  it,  and  an  elegant  pack  of  dogs,  fourteen  hunters  in 
the  stable,  and  as  pleasant  a  kitchen  as  ever  I  broke  my 
fast  in.  The  cook  's  a  mighty  nice  woman,  —  a  trifle  fat,  or 
so ;  but  a  good  sowl,  and  a  raal  warrant  for  an  Irish  stew." 
"  And  Mr.  Ulick  Burke,  Joe,  do  you  know  him  ?  " 
"  Is  it  blazing  Burke  ?  Faix,  I  do  know  him  !  I  was  as 
near  him  as  I  am  to  you  when  he  shot  Matt  Callanan  at  the 
mills.  '  There,  now,'  says  he,  when  he  put  a  ball  in  his 
hip,  and  lamed  him  for  life,  'you  were  always  fond  of  your 


LOUGIIREA.  213 

trade,  arid  I  '11  make  you  a  hopper.'  And  sure  enough,  this 
is  the  way  he  goes  ever  since." 

"  He  is  a  good  horseman,  they  tell  me,  Joe  ?  " 

"The "best  in  Ireland;  for  following  the  dogs,  flat  race, 
or  steeple-chase,  show  me  his  equal.  Och!  it's  himself 
has  the  seat  in  a  saddle.  Mighty  short  he  rides  with  his 
knees  up,  this  way,  and  his  toes  out.  Not  so  purty  to  look 
at,  till  you  are  used  to  it;  but  watch  him  fingering  his 
baste,  feeling  his  mouth  with  the  snaffle,  —  never  torment- 
ing, but  just  letting  him  know  who  is  on  his  back.  It 's 
raal  pleasure  to  look  at  him ;  and  then  to  see  him  taking  a 
little  canter  before  he  sets  off,  with  his  hand  low,  and  just 
tickling  the  flanks  with  his  spurs,  to  larn  the  temper  of  the 
horse.     May  I  never !  if  it  is  n't  a  heavenly  sight !  " 

"  You  like  Mr.  Burke,  then,  I  see,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Like  him !  Who  would  n't  like  him  a-horseback  ? 
Is  n't  he  the  moral  of  a  rider,  that  knows  his  baste  better 
than  I  know  my  Hail  Mary  ?  But  see  him  a-foot,  he 's  the 
greatest  divil  from  here  to  Croaghpatrick,  —  nothing  civil- 
ler  in  his  mouth  than  a  curse  and  a  '  bloody  end '  to  ye  ! 
Och !  it 's  himself  hates  the  poor,  and  they  hate  him :  the 
beggars  run  away  from  him  as  if  he  was  the  police ;  and 
the  blind  man  that  sits  on  Banagher  bridge  takes  up  his 
bags  and  runs  for  the  bare  life  the  minit  he  hears  the  trot 
of  his  horse.  Is  n't  it  a  wonder  how  he  rides  so  bowld  with 
all  the  curses  over  him  ?  Faix,  myself  would  n't  cross  that 
little  stream  there,  if  I  was  like  him.  Weil,  well,  he  '11 
have  a  hard  reckoning  at  last.  He  's  killed  five  men  al- 
ready, and  wounded  a  great  many  more ;  but  they  say  he 
won't  be  able  to  go  on  much  further,  for  when  he  kills  an- 
other the  divil 's  to  come  for  him.  The  Lord  be  about  us  ! 
by  rason  he  never  let 's  any  one  kill  more  nor  six." 

Thus  chatting  away,  the  road  passed  over ;  and  as  the 
sun  was  setting  we  came  in  sight  of  the  town,  now  not 
above  a  mile  distant. 

"  That 's  Loughrea  you  see  there,  —  it 's  a  mighty  fine 
place,"  said  Joe.  "There  's  slate  houses  and  a  market  and 
a  barrack ;  but  you  '11  stop  a  few  days  in  the  town  ?  " 


214  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

«Oh,  certainly ;'  I  wish  to  see  this  race/' 

"  That  will  be  the  fine  race.  It  is  a  great  country  entirely, 
—  every  kind  of  fence,  gates,  ditches,  and  stcne-walls,  as 
thick  as  they  can  lie.  I  '11  show  you  all  the  course,  for  I 
know  it  well,  and  tell  you  the  names  of  all  the  gentlemen, 
and  the  names  of  their  horses  and  their  servants  ;  and  I  '11 
bring  you  where  you'll  see  the  whole  race,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  without  stirring  an  inch.  Are  you  going  to 
bet  any  money  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not,  Joe ;  but  I  'm  greatly  interested  for  a 
friend." 

%  And  who  is  he  ?  " 

"Captain  O'Grady." 

"  Master  Phil !  Tear-an'-ages  !  are  you  a  friend  of  Mas- 
ter Phil's  ?  Arrah,  why  did  n't  you  tell  me  that  before  ? 
Why  did  n't  you  mintion  his  name  to  me  ?  Och  !  is  n't 
myself  proud  this  evening  to  be  with  a  friend  of  the 
Captain's  ?     See,  now,  what 's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Hinton,"  said  I. 

"  Ay,  but  your  Christian  name  ?  " 

"  They  who  know  me  best  call  me  Jack  Hinton." 

"  Musha !  but  I'd  like  to  call  you  Jack  Hinton,  just  for 
this  once.     Now,  will  you  do  one  thing  for  me  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  Joe  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Make  them  give  me  a  half  pint  to  drink  your  health 
and  the  Captain's ;  for,  faix,  you  must  be  the  right  sort,  or 
he  would  n't  keep  company  with  you.  It's  just  like  yester- 
day to  me  the  day  I  met  him,  down  at  Bishop's  Loch.  The 
hounds  came  to  a  check,  and  a  hail-storm  came  on,  and  all 
the  gentlemen  went  into  a  little  shebeen  house  for  shelter. 
I  was  standing  outside,  as  it  may  be  here,  when  Master 
Phil  saw  me  :  '  Come  in,  Joe,'  says  he ;  '  you  're  the  best 
company,  and  the  pleasantest  fellow  over  a  mug  of  egg-flip.' 
And  may  I  never!  if  he  didn't  make  me  sit  down  fornint 
him  at  a  little  table,  and  drink  two  quarts  of  as  beautiful 
flip  as  ever  I  tasted.  And  Master  Phil  has  a  horse  here,  ye 
tell,  me  :  what 's  his  name  ?  " 

"  That,  Joe,  I  am  afraid  I  can't  pronounce  for  you  ;  it  '3 


LOUGIIREA.  215 

rather  beyond  my  English  tongue.     But  I  know  that  his 
color  's  gray,  and  that  he  has  one  cropped  ear." 

"  That 's  Moddiridderoo !  "  shouted  Joe,  as  throwing  my 
portmanteau  to  the  ground,  he  seated  himself  leisurely  on 
it,  and  seemed  lost  in  meditation. 

"  Be  gorra,"  said  he  at  length,  "  he  chose  a  good-tempered 
one,  when  he  was  about  it !  there  never  was  such  a  horse 
foaled  in  them  parts.  Ye  heard  what  he  did  to  Mr.  Shea, 
the  man  that  bred  him  ?  He  threw  him  over  a  wall,  and 
then  jumped  after  him  ;  and  if  it  was  n't  that  his  guardian- 
angel  made  his  leather  breeches  so  strong,  he  'd  have  ate 
him  up  entirely !  Sure,  there 's  no  one  can  ride  him  barrin' 
the  man  I  was  talkin'  of." 

"  Well,  Joe,  I  believe  Mr.  Burke  is  to  ride  him." 

"  Musha !  but  I  'm  sorry  for  it !  " 

"And  why  so?  You  seem  to  think  highly  of  his 
horsemanship." 

"  There  's  no  mislikin'  that,  av  it  was  fair ;  but  then,  you 
see,  he  has  as  many  tricks  in  him  as  the  devil.  Sometimes 
he  '11  break  his  stirrup  leather,  or  he'll  come  in  a  pound  too 
heavy,  or  he  '11  slip  the  snaffle  out  of  the  mouth ;  for  he 
does  n't  care  for  his  neck.  Once  I  see  him  stake  his  baste, 
and  bring  him  in  dead  lame." 

Here  ended  our  conversation ;  for  by  this  time  we 
entered  the  town,  and  proceeded  to  Mrs.  Doolan's.  The 
house  was  full,  or  the  apartments  bespoke  ;  and  I  was  turn- 
ing away  in  disappointment  when  I  accidentally  overheard 
the  landlady  mention  the  two  rooms  ordered  by  Captain 
O'Grady.  A  little  explanation  ensued,  and  I  discovered,  to 
my  delight,  that  these  were  destined  for  me  by  my  friend, 
who  had  written  sometime  before  to  secure  them.  A  few 
minutes  more  saw  me  comfortably  installed  in  the  little  inn, 
whose  unpretending  exterior  and  cheerful  comfort  within 
doors  were  the  direct  antithesis  to  the  solemn  humbug  I 
had  left  at  Shannon  Harbor. 

Under  Joe's  auspices  —  for  he  had  established  himself  as 
my  own  man  —  tea  and  rashers  made  their  appearance. 
My  clothes  were  unpacked  and  put  by ;  and  as  he  placed 


216  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

my  dressing-gown  and  slippers  in  readiness  before  the  fire, 
I  could  not  help  observing  the  servant-like  alacrity  of  his 
manner,  perfect  in  everything  save  in  his  habit  of  singing 
to  himself  as  he  went,  which  I  can't  say,  however,  that  I 
disliked,  and  certainly  never  dreamed  of  checking.  Hav- 
ing written  a  few  lines  to  Mr.  Burke,  expressing  my  desire 
for  a  few  minutes'  interview  the  following  morning,  I  de- 
spatched the  note,  and  prepared  for  bed. 

I  had  often  listened  with  apathy  to  the  wise  saws  of  peo- 
ple who  never  having  felt  either  hunger  or  fatigue  are  so 
fond  of  pronouncing  a  glowing  eulogium  on  such  luxuries 
when  the  period  of  their  gratification  has  arrived;  but  I 
confess,  as  I  lay  down  that  night  in  bed  and  drew  the 
clothes  around  me,  I  began  to  believe  that  they  had  under- 
rated the  pleasures  they  spoke  of.  The  house-clock  ticked 
pleasantly  in  the  room  without ;  the  cheerful  turf  fire  threw 
its  mild  red  light  across  the  room;  the  sounds  from  the 
street  were  those  of  happy  voices  and  merry  laughter,  and 
when  I  ceased  to  hear  them  I  had  fallen  into  a  sound  and 
peaceful  sleep. 

It  was  after  about  a  dozen  efforts,  in  which  I  had  gone 
through  all  the  usual  formula  on  such  occasions,  —  rubbing 
my  eyes,  stretching,  and  even  pinching  myself,  —  before  I 
could  awake  on  the  following  morning.  I  felt  somewhat 
stiffened  from  the  unaccustomed  exertions  of  the  day  before, 
but  somehow  my  spirits  were  unusually  high,  and  my  heart 
in  its  very  lightest  mood.  I  looked  about  me  through  the 
little  room,  where  all  was  order,  neatness,  and  propriety. 
My  clothes  carefully  brushed  and  folded,  my  boots  resplen- 
dent in  their  blacking,  stood  basking  before  the  fire ;  even 
my  hat,  placed  gently  on  one  side,  and  my  gloves,  carefully 
flattened,  were  laid  out  in  true  valet  fashion.  The  door 
into  my  little  sitting-room  lay  open,  and  I  could  mark  the 
neat  and  comfortable  preparations  for  my  breakfast;  while 
at  a  little  distance  from  the  table,  and  in  an  attitude  of 
patient  attention,  stood  poor  Joe  himself,  who,  with  a  nap* 
kin  across  his  arm,  was  quietly  waiting  the  moment  of  my 
awaking. 


LOUGHREA.  217 

I  know  not  if  my  reader  will  have  any  sympathy  with 
the  confession ;  but  I  own  I  have  always  felt  a  higher 
degree  of  satisfaction  from  the  unbought  and  homely  cour- 
tesy chance  has  thrown  in  my  way,  than  from  the  more 
practised  and  dearly  paid  for  attentions  of  the  most  dis- 
ciplined household.  There  is  something  flattering  in  the 
personal  devotion  which  seems  to  spring  from  pure  good- 
will, that  insensibly  raises  one  in  his  own  esteem.  In  some 
such  reflection  as  this  was  I  lost,  when  the  door  of  my 
outer  room  was  opened,  and  a  voice  inquired  if  Mr.  Hinton 
stopped  there. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Joe  ;  "  he  is  in  bed  and  asleep." 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  Joe  ?  "  replied  the  other.  "  So  you  are 
turned  footman,  I  see.  If  the  master  be  like  the  man,  it 
ought  to  be  a  shrewd  establishment." 

"No,"  replied  Joe,  carelessly;  "he's  not  very  like  anything 
down  in  these  parts  ;  for  he  appears  to  be  a  gentleman." 

"  Tell  him  I  am  here,  and  be  d d  to  you,"  was  the  in- 
dignant reply,  as  the  speaker  threw  himself  into  his  chair 
and  stirred  the  fire  with  his  foot. 

Suspecting  at  once  who  my  visitor  was,  I  motioned  to 
Joe  to  leave  the  room,  and  proceeded  to  dress  myself  with 
all  despatch.  During  the  operation,  however,  my  friend 
without  manifested  several  symptoms  of  impatience, — now 
walking  the  room  with  rapid  strides,  as  he  whistled  a  quick- 
step ;  now  beating  the  bars  of  the  grate  with  a  poker,  and 
occasionally  performing  that  popular  war-dance,  "the  Devil's 
Tattoo,"  with  his  knuckles  upon  the  table.  At  length  his 
endurance  seemed  pushed  to  its  length,  and  he  knocked 
sharply  at  the  door,  calling  out  at  the  same  moment,  — 

"  I  say,  sir,  time  's  up,  if  you  please." 

The  next  moment  I  was  before  him. 

Mr.  Ulick  Burke  —  for  I  need  not  say  it  was  he  —  was  a 
well  looking  man,  of  about  eight-and-twenty  or  thirty  years 
of  age.  Although  his  height  was  below  the  middle  size,  he 
was  powerfully  and  strongly  made ;  his  features  would  have 
been  handsome  were  it  not  for  a  certain  expression  of  vul- 
gar suspicion  that  played  about  the  eyes,  giving  him  a  side- 


218  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

long  look  when  he  spoke ;  this,  and  the  loss  of  two  front 
teeth  from  a  fall,  disfigured  a  face  originally  pleasing.  His 
whiskers  were  large,  bushy,  and  meeting  beneath  his  chin. 
As  to  his  dress,  it  was  in  character  with  his  calling,  —  a 
green  coat  cut  round  in  jockey  fashion,  over  which  he 
wore  a  white  "  bang-up,"  as  it  was  called,  in  one  pocket  of 
which  was  carelessly  thrust  a  lash-whip  ;  a  belcher  hand- 
kerchief, knotted  loosely  about  his  neck,  buckskin  breeches 
reaching  far  down  upon  the  leg,  and  top-boots  completed  his 
costume.  I  had  almost  forgotten  a  hat,  perhaps  the  most 
characteristic  thing  of  all.  This,  which  once  had  been  white, 
was  now,  by  stress  of  time  and  weather,  of  a  dirty  drab 
color ;  its  crown  dinged  in  several  places,  and  the  leaf  jagged 
and  broken,  bespoke  the  hard  usage  to  which  it  was  sub- 
jected. While  speaking,  he  held  it  firmly  clutched  in  his 
ungloved  hand,  and  from  time  to  time  struck  it  against  his 
thigh  with  an  energy  of  manner  that  seemed  habitual.  His 
manner  was  a  mixture  of  timid  embarrassment  and  vulgar 
assurance,  —  feeling  his  way  as  it  were  with  one,  while  he 
forgot  himself  with  the  other.  With  certain  remnants  of 
the  class  he  originally  belonged  to,  he  had  associated  the 
low  habitudes  and  slang  phraseology  of  his  daily  associates, 
making  it  difficult  for  one  at  first  sight  to  discover  to  which 
order  he  belonged.  In  the  language  of  his  companions, 
Ulick  Burke  "  could  be  a  gentleman  when  ■  he  pleased  it." 

How  often  have  we  heard  this  phrase,  and  with  what  a  fa- 
tal mistake  is  it  generally  applied  !  He  who  can  be  a  gen- 
tleman when  he  pleases,  never  pleases  to  be  anything  else. 
Circumstances  may  and  do,  every  day  in  life,  throw  men 
of  cultivated  minds  and  refined  habits  into  the  society  of 
their  inferiors ;  but  while,  with  the  tact  and  readiness  that 
is  their  especial  prerogative,  they  make  themselves  wel- 
come among  those  with  whom  they  have  few  if  any  sympa- 
thies in  common,  yet  never  by  any  accident  do  they  dero- 
gate from  that  high  standard  that  makes  them  gentlemen. 
So,  on  the  other  hand,  the  man  of  vulgar  tastes  and  coarse 
propensities  may  simulate,  if  he  be  able,  the  outward  habi- 
tudes of  society,  —  speaking  with  practised  intonation,  and 


LOUGHREA.  219 

bowing  with  well-studied  grace ;  yet  is  he  no  more  a  gentle- 
man in  his  thought  or  feeling  than  is  the  tinselled  actor, 
who  struts  the  board,  the  monarch  his  costume  would  be- 
speak him.  This  being  the  "  gentleman  when  he  likes  "  is 
but  the  mere  performance  of  the  character.  It  has  all  the 
smell  of  the  orange-peel  and  the  foot-lights  about  it,  and 
never  can  be  mistaken  by  any  one  who  knows  the  world. 

But  to  come  back  to  Mr.  Burke.  Having  eyed  me  for  a 
second  or  two,  with  a  look  of  mingled  distrust  and  imperti- 
nence, he  unfolded  my  note,  which  he  held  beneath  his  fin- 
gers, and  said,  — 

"  I  received  this  from  you  last  night,  Mr.  —  " 

"  Hinton,"  said  I,  assisting  him. 

"  Mr.  Hinton,"  repeated  he,  slowly. 

"  Won't  you  be  seated  ?  "  said  I,  pointing  to  a  chair,  and 
taking  one  myself. 

He  nodded  familiarly,  and  placing  himself  on  the  window- 
sill,  with  one  foot  upon  a  chair,  resumed,  — 

"  It 's  about  O'G-rady's  business  I  suppose  you  've  come 
down  here.     The  captain  has  treated  me  very  ill." 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  I,  coolly,  "  in  guessing  the 
object  of  my  visit ;  but  I  must  also  let  you  know  that  in 
any  observations  you  make  concerning  Captain  O'Grady  they 
are  made  to  a  friend,  who  will  no  more  permit  his  name  to 
be  slightingly  treated  than  his  own." 

"Of  course,"  pronounced  with  a  smile  of  the  most  insult- 
ing coolness,  was  the  only  reply.  "  That,  however,  is  not 
the  matter  in  hand:  your  friend,  the  captain,  never  conde- 
scended to  answer  my  letter." 

"  He  only  received  it  a  few  days  ago." 

"  Why  is  n't  he  here  himself  ?  Is  a  gentleman  rider  to 
be  treated  like  a  common  jockey  that 's  paid  for  his  race  ?  " 

I  confess  the  distinction  was  too  subtile  for  me,  but  I 
said  nothing  in  reply. 

"  I  don't  even  know  where  the  horse  is,  nor  if  he  is 
here  at  all.  Will  you  call  that  handsome  treatment, 
Mr.  Hinton?" 

"  One  thing  I  am  quite  sure  of,  Mr.  Burke,  —  Captain 


220  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

O'Grady  is  incapable  of  anything  unworthy  or  unbecoming 
a  gentleman ;  the  haste  of  his  departure  for  foreign  service 
may  have  prevented  him  observing  certain  matters  of  eti- 
quette towards  you,  but  he  has  commissioned  me  to  accept 
your  terms.  The  horse  is  here,  or  will  be  here  to-night ; 
and  I  trust  nothing  will  interrupt  the  good  understanding 
that  has  hitherto  subsisted  between  you." 

"  And  will  he  take  up  the  writ  ?  " 

"  He  will,"  said  I,  firmly. 

"  He  must  have  a  heavy  book  on  the  race." 

"Nearly  a  thousand  pounds." 

"  I  'm  sorry  for  it  for  his  sake,"  was  the  cool  reply,  "  for 
he  '11  lose  his  money." 

" Indeed !  "  said  I ;  "I  understand  that  you  thought  well 
of  his  horse,  and  that  with  your  riding —  " 

"  Ay  ;  but  I  won't  ride  for  him." 

"  You  won't  ride  !  —  not  on  your  own  terms  ?  " 

"No;  not  even  on  my  own  terms.  Don't  be  putting 
yourself  into  a  passion,  Mr.  Hinton.  You  've  come  down 
to  a  country  where  that  never  does  any  good ;  we  settle  all 
our  little  matters  here  in  a  social,  pleasant  way  of  our  own. 
But,  I  repeat  it,  I  won't  ride  for  your  friend ;  so  you  may 
withdraw  his  horse  as  soon  as  you  like,  —  except,"  added 
he,  with  a  most  contemptuous  sneer,  "  you  have  a  fancy  for 
riding  him  yourself." 

Eesolving  that  whatever  course  I  should  follow  I  would 
at  least  keep  my  temper  for  the  present,  I  assumed  as 
much  calmness  as  I  could  command,  and  said,  — 

"  And  what  is  there  against  O'Grady's  horse  ?  " 

"A  chestnut  mare  of  Tom  Molloy's,  that  can  beat  him 
over  any  country.  The  rest  are  withdrawn ;  so  that  I  '11 
have  a  '  ride  over '  for  my  pains." 

"  Then  you  ride  for  Mr.  Molloy  ?  "  said  I. 

"  You  've  guessed  it,"  replied  he  with  a  wink,  as  throw- 
ing his  hat  carelessly  on  one  side  of  his  head  he  gave  me 
an  insolent  nod,  and  lounged  out  of  the  room. 

I  need  not  say  that  my  breakfast  appetite  was  not  im- 
proved by  Mr.  Burke's   visit;   in   fact,  never  was  a  man 


LOUGHREA.  221 

more  embarrassed  than  I  was.  Independent  of  the  loss  of 
his  money,  I  knew  how  poor  Phil  would  suffer  from  the 
duplicity  of  the  transaction ;  and  in  my  sorrow  for  his  sake 
I  could  not  help  accusing  myself  of  ill-management  in  the 
matter.  Had  I  been  more  conciliating  or  more  blunt, 
had  I  bullied  or  bid  higher,  perhaps  a  different  result 
might  have  followed.  Alas  !  in  all  my  calculations,  I  knew 
little  or  nothing  of  him  with  whom  I  had  to  deal.  Puzzled 
and  perplexed,  uncertain  how  to  act,  —  now  resolving  on  one 
course,  now  deciding  on  the  opposite, — I  paced  my  little 
room  for  above  an  hour,  the  only  conviction  I  could  come 
to  being  the  unhappy  choice  that  poor  0' Grady  had  made 
when  he  selected  me  for  his  negotiator. 

The  town  clock  struck  twelve.  I  remembered  suddenly 
that  was  the  hour  when  the  arrangements  for  the  race  were 
to  be  ratified ;  and  without  a  thought  of  what  course  I 
should  pursue,  what  plan  I  should  adopt,  I  took  my  hat 
and  sallied  forth. 

The  main  street  of  the  little  town  Avas  crowded  with 
people,  most  of  them  of  that  class  which  in  Irish  phrase 
goes  by  the  appellation  of  squireen,  —  a  species  of  human 
lurcher,  without  any  of  the  good  properties  of  either  class 
from  which  it  derives  its  origin,  but  abounding  in  the  bad 
traits  of  both.  They  lounged  along,  followed  by  pointers 
and  wire-haired  greyhounds,  their  hands  stuck  in  their 
coat-pockets,  and  their  hats  set  well  back  on  their  heads. 
Following  in  the  train  of  this  respectable  cortege,  I  reached 
the  market-house,  upon  the  steps  of  which  several  "  sport- 
ing gentlemen  "  of  a  higher  order  were  assembled.  Elbow- 
ing my  way  with  some  difficulty  through  these,  I  mounted 
a  dirty  and  sandy  stair  to  a  large  room,  usually  employed 
by  the  magistrates  for  their  weekly  sessions  ;  here,  at  a 
long  table,  sat  the  race  committee,  an  imposing  display  of 
books,  pens,  and  papers  before  them.  A  short  little  man, 
with  a  powdered  head,  and  a  certain  wheezing  chuckle 
when  he  spoke  that  involuntarily  suggested  the  thought  of 
apoplexy,  seemed  to  be  the  president  of  the  meeting. 

The  room  was  so  crowded  with  persons  of  every  class 


222  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

that  I  could  with  difficulty  catch  what  was  going  forward. 
I  looked  anxiously  round  to  see  if  I  could  not  recognize 
some  friend  or  acquaintance,  but  every  face  was  strange  to 
me.  The  only  one  I  had  ever  seen  before  was  Mr.  Burke 
himself,  who  with  his  back  to  the  fire  was  edifying  a  select 
circle  of  his  friends  by  what  I  discovered,  from  the  laugh- 
ter of  his  auditory,  was  a  narrative  of  his  visit  to  myself. 
The  recital  must  have  owed  something  to  his  ingenuity  in 
telling,  for  indeed  the  gentlemen  seemed  convulsed  with 
mirth ;  and  when  Mr.  Burke  concluded,  it  was  plain  to  see 
that  he  stood  several  feet  higher  in  the  estimation  of  his 
acquaintances. 

"  Silence !  "  wheezed  the  little  man  with  the  white  head  : 
"  it  is  a  quarter  past  twelve  o'clock,  and  I  '11  not  wait  any 
longer." 

"Read  the  list,  Maurice,"  cried  some  one.  "As  it  is 
Only  'a  walk  over,'  you  needn't  lose  any  time." 

"  Here,  then,  No.  1,  —  Captain  Fortescue's  Tramp." 

"  Withdrawn,"  said  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

"  No.  2,  —  Harry  Studdard's  Devil-may-care  ! " 

"  Paid  forfeit,"  cried  another. 

"No.  3,  —  Sir  George  O'Brien 's  Billy-the-bowl ! " 

"  Gone  home  again,"  was  the  answer. 

«  Xo.  4,  —  Tom  Molloy's  Cathleen ! " 

"  All  right !  "  shouted  Mr.  Burke,  from  the  fireplace. 

"  Who  rides  ?  "  asked  the  president. 

"  Ulick  ! "  repeated  half-a-dozen  voices  together. 

"  Eleven  stone  eight,"  said  the  little  man. 

"  And  a  pound  for  the  martingale,"  chimed  in  Mr.  Burke. 

"  Well,  I  believe  that 's  all  —  No :  there 's  another  horse, 
—  Captain  O'Grady's  Moddiridderoo." 

"  Scratch  him  out  with  the  rest,"  said  Mr.  Burke. 

"No  S  "  said  I,  from  the  back  of  the  room. 

The  word  seemed  electric  ;  every  eye  was  turned  towards 
the  quarter  where  I  stood,  and  as  I  moved  forward  towards 
the  table  the  crowd  receded  to  permit  my  passage. 

"Are  you  on  the  part  of  Mr.  O'Grady,  sir?"  said  the 
little  man,  with  a  polite  smile. 


LOUGHREA.  223 

I  bowed  an  affirmative. 

"  He  does  not  withdraw  his  horse,  then  ?  "  said  he. 

"  No  !  "  said  I  again. 

"  But  you  are  aware,  sir,  that  Mr.  Burke  is  going  to  ride 
for  my  friend,  Mr.  Molloy,  here.  Are  you  prepared  with 
another  gentleman  ?  " 

I  nodded  shortly. 

"  His  name,  may  I  ask  ?  "  continued  he. 

"  Mr.  Hinton." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Burke,  attracted  by  the  colloquy,  had 
approached  the  table,  and  stooping  down  whispered  some 
words  in  the  president's  ear. 

"  You  will  forgive  me,  I  'ni  sure,"  said  the  latter,  address- 
ing me,  "  if  I  ask,  as  the  name  is  unknown  to  me,  if  this  be 
a  gentleman  rider  ?  " 

The  blood  rushed  to  my  face  and  temples.  I  knew  at 
once  from  whom  this  insult  proceeded.  It  was  no  time, 
however,  to  notice  it ;  so  I  simply  replied,  — 

"  Mr.  Hinton  is  an  officer  of  the  Guards,  an  aide-de-camp 
to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  and  I  beg  leave  respectfully  to  pre- 
sent him  to  you." 

The  obsequious  civility  exhibited  by  the  party  as  I  pro- 
nounced these  few  words  was  an  ample  amende  for  what  I 
had  suffered  a  few  minutes  before.  Meanwhile,  Mr.  Burke 
had  resumed  his  place  at  the  fire,  once  more  surrounded  by 
his  admiring  satellites. 

Being  accommodated  with  a  chair  at  the  table,  I  proceeded 
to  read  over  and  sign  the  usual  papers,  by  which  I  bound 
myself  to  abide  by  the  regulations  of  the  course,  and  con- 
form in  all  things  to  the  decision  of  the  stewards.  Scarcely 
had  I  concluded,  when  Mr.  Burke  called  out,  — 

"  Who  '11  take  eight  to  one  on  the  race  ?  " 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  in  reply. 

"  Who  '11  take  fifty  to  five  ?  "  cried  he  again. 

"  1  will,"  said  a  voice  from  the  door. 

"  Who  is  that  takes  my  bet  ?     What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Tom  Loftus,  P.P:  of  Murranakilty." 


224  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  A  better  fellow  nor  an  honester  could  n't  do  it,"  said 
the  president. 

"  Book  your  bet,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Burke ;  "  or  if  it  is  equally 
convenient  for  you,  you  can  pay  it  at  present." 

"  I  never  make  a  memorandum  of  such  trifles,"  said  the 
priest;  "but  I'll  stake  the  money  in  some  decent  man's 
hands." 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed  the  priest's  proposition,  than 
which  nothing  could  be  less  to  Mr.  Burke's  taste.  This 
time,  however,  he  was  in  funds ;  and  while  the  good  father 
disengaged  his  five-pound  note  from  the  folds  of  a  black 
leather  pocket-book  as  large  as  a  portfolio,  his  antagonist 
threw  a  fifty  on  the  table  with  an  air  of  swaggering  impor- 
tance. I  turned  now  to  shake  hands  with  my  friend ;  but 
to  my  surprise  and  astonishment  he  gave  me  a  look  of  cold 
and  impressive  import,  that  showed  me  at  once  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  recognized,  and  the  next  moment  left  the  room. 
My  business  there  was  also  concluded,  and  having  promised 
to  be  forthcoming  the  following  day,  at  two  o'clock,  I  bowed 
to  the  chairman  and  withdrew. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


A    MOONLIGHT    CANTER. 


I  was  not  quite  satisfied  with  the  good  priest  for  his 
having  cut  me,  no  matter  what  his  reasons.  I  was  not  over- 
much so  with  the  tone  of  the  whole  meeting  itself,  and  cer- 
tainly I  was  very  little  satisfied  with  the  part  I  had  myself 
taken  therein  ;  for  as  cooller  judgment  succeeded  to  hot  ex- 
citement, I  perceived  in  what  a  mess  of  difficulty  I  had  in- 
volved myself,  and  Inn  a  momentary  flush  of  passionate 
indignation  had  carried  me  away  beyond  the  bounds  of 
reason  and  sense,  to  undertake  what  but  half  an  hour  pre- 
viously I  should  have  shrunk  from  with  shame,  and  the 
very  thought  of  which  now  filled  me  with  apprehension  and 
dread,  —  not  indeed  as  to  the  consequences  to  myself,  phy- 
sically considered,  for  most  willingly  would  I  have  com- 
pounded for  a  fractured  limb,  or  even  two,  to  escape  the 
ridicule  I  was  almost  certain  of  incurring.  This  it  was 
which  I  could  not  bear,  and  my  heart,  amour  propre,  re- 
coiled from  the  thought  of  being  a  laughing-stock  to  the 
under-bred  and  ill-born  horde  that  would  assemble  to  wit- 
ness me. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  inn  poor  Joe  was  there  awaiting 
me ;  he  had  been  down  to  see  the  horse,  which  for  pre- 
caution's sake  was  kept  at  a  mill  a  little  distance  from 
the  town,  and  of  whose  heart  and  condition  he  spoke  in 
glowing  terms. 

"  Och !  he  is  a  raal  beauty ;  a  little  thick  in  fat  about  the 
crest,  but  they  say  he  always  trains  fleshy,  and  his  legs  are 
as  clean  as  a  whistle.  Sorra  bit,  but  it  will  give  Mr.  Ulick 
as  much  as  he  can  do  to  ride  him  to-morrow.     I  know  by 

VOL  i.  — 15 


226  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

the  way  he  turns  his  eyes  round  to  you  in  the  stable  he  's 
in  the  devil's  temper." 

"But  it  is  not  Mr.  Burke,  Joe.  I  am  going  to  ride 
him." 

"  You  are  going  to  do  it !  You !  Oh,  by  the  powers  ! 
Mr.  Ulick  was  n't  far  out  when  he  said  the  master  was  as 
mad  as  the  man.  '  Tell  me  your  company,'  says  the  old 
proverb ;  and  you  see  there  it  is.  What  comes  of  it  ?  If 
you  lie  down  with  dogs  you  '11  get  up  with  fleas  ;  and  that 's 
the  fruits  of  travelling  with  a  fool." 

I  was  in  no  temper  for  badinage  at  the  moment,  and  re- 
plied to  the  poor  fellow  in  a  somewhat  harsher  tone  than  I 
should  have  used ;  and  as  he  left  the  room  without  speak- 
ing, I  felt  ashamed  and  angry  with  myself  for  thus  banish- 
ing the  only  one  that  seemed  to  feel  an  interest  in  my 
fortunes. 

I  sat  down  to  my  dinner  discontented  and  unhappy. 
But  a  few  hours  previous,  and  I  awoke  high  in  heart  and 
hope  ;  and  now  without  any  adverse  stroke  of  fortune, 
without  any  of  those  casualties  of  fate  which  come  on  us 
unlooked  for  and  unthought  of,  but  simply  by  the  unguided 
exercise  of  a  passionate  temperament,  I  found  myself  sur- 
rounded by  embarrassments  and  environed  by  difficulties, 
without  one  friend  to  counsel  or  advise  me. 

Yes,  I  could  not  conceal  it  from  myself,  —  my  determi- 
nation to  ride  the  steeple-chase  was  the  mere  outbreak  of 
passion.  The  taunting  insolence  of  Burke  had  stung  me  to 
adopt  a  course  which  I  had  neither  previously  considered, 
nor  if  suggested  by  another  could  ever  have  consented  to. 
True,  I  was  what  could  be  called  a  good  horseman.  In  the 
two  seasons  I  had  spent  in  Leicestershire,  on  a  visit  to  a 
relative,  I  had  acquitted  myself  with  credit  and  character  ; 
but  a  light  weight  splendidly  mounted  on  a  trained  hunter, 
over  his  accustomed  country,  has  no  parallel  with  the  same 
individual  upon  a  horse  he  has  never  crossed,  over  a  coun- 
try he  has  never  seen.  These  and  a  hundred  similar  con- 
siderations came  rushing  on  me  now  when  it  was  too  late. 
However,  the  thing  was  done,  and  their  being  no  possible 


A  MOONLIGHT   CANTER.  227 

way  of  undoing  it,  there  was  but  one  road — the  straightfor- 
ward—  to  follow  in  the  case.  Alas!  half  of  our  philoso- 
phy in  difficulties  consists  in  shutting  our  eyes  firmly 
against  consequences,  and,  tete  baiss&e,  rushing  headlong 
at  the  future.  Though  few  may  be  found  willing  to  admit 
that  the  bull  in  the  china-shop  is  the  model  of  their  pru- 
dence, I  freely  own  it  was  mine,  and  that  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  ride  the  horse  with  the  unspeakable  name  as  long 
as  he  would  permit  me  to  ride  him,  at  everything,  over 
everything,  or  through  everything  before  me.  This  conclu- 
sion at  length  come  to,  I  began  to  feel  more  easy  in  my 
mind.  Like  the  felon  that  feels  there  is  no  chance  of  a 
reprieve,  I  could  look  my  fate  more  steadily  in  the  face. 

I  had  no  great  appetite  for  my  dinner,  but  I  sat  over  an 
excellent  bottle  of  port,  sipping  and  sipping,  each  glass  I 
swallowed  lending  a  rose-tint  to  the  future.  The  second 
bottle  had  just  been  placed  on  the  table  before  me,  when 
O'Grady's  groom  came  in  to  receive  his  instructions.  He 
had  heard  nothing  of  my  resolution  to  ride,  and  certainly 
looked  aghast  when  I  announced  it  to  him.  By  this  time, 
however,  I  had  combated  my  own  fears,  and  I  was  not  going 
to  permit  his  to  terrify  me.  Affecting  the  easy  nonchalance 
of  that  excellent  type  Mr.  Ulick  Burke,  I  thrust  my  hands 
into  my  coat-pockets,  and  standing  with  my  back  to  the 
fire,  began  questioning  him  about  the  horse.  Confound  it ! 
there  's  no  man  so  hard  to  humbug  as  an  Irishman  ;  but  if 
he  be  a  groom,  I  pronounce  the  thing  impossible.  The 
fellow  saw  through  me  in  a  moment ;  and  as  he  sipped  the 
glass  of  wine  I  had  filled  out  for  him,  he  approached  me 
confidentially,  while  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  — 

"  Did  you  say  you  'd  ride  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  I  did." 

"  You  did !  well,  well !  there 's  no  helping  it,  since  you 
said  it.  There  's  only  one  thing  to  be  done,"  —  he  looked 
cautiously  about  the  room,  lest  any  one  should  overhear 
him.  "  There 's  but  one  thing  I  know  of,  —  let  him  throw 
you  at  the  first  leap.  Mind  me  now,  just  leave  it  to  him- 
self, —  he  '11  give  you  no  trouble  in  life ;  and  all  you  have 


228  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

to  do  is  to  choose  the  soft  side.  It 's  not  your  fault  after 
that,  you  know,  for  I  need  n't  tell  you  he  won't  be  caught 
before  night." 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  this  new  receipt  for  riding  a 
steeple-chase,  although  I  confess  it  did  not  raise  my  courage 
regarding  the  task  before  ine. 

"  But  what  does  he  do  ?  "  said  I,  —  "  this  infernal  beast ; 
what  trick  has  he  ?  " 

"  It  is  n't  one  but  a  hundred  that  he  has.  First  of  all,  it 
is  n't  so  easy  to  get  on  his  back,  for  he  is  as  handy  with  his 
hind  foot  as  a  fiddler ;  and  if  you  are  not  mighty  quick  in 
mounting,  he  '11  strike  you  down  with  it.  Then,  when  you 
are  up,  maybe  he  won't  move  at  all,  but  stand  with  his  fore- 
legs out,  his  head  down,  and  his  eyes  turned  back  just  like 
a  picture,  hitting  his  flanks  between  times  with  his  long 
tail.  You  may  coax  him,  pet  him,  and  pat  him,  —  faith, 
you  might  as  well  be  tickling  a  milestone,  for  it 's  laughing 
at  you  he  '11  be  all  the  time.  Maybe  at  last  you  '11  get 
tired,  and  touch  him  with  the  spur.  Hurroo !  be  gorra, 
you  '11  get  it  then  !  " 

"  Why,  what  happens  then  ?  " 

"  What  happens,  is  it  ?  Maybe  it 's  your  neck  is  broke, 
or  your  thigh,  or  your  collar-bone  at  least.  He  '11  give  you 
a  straight  plunge  up  in  the  air,  about  ten  feet  high,  throw 
his  head  forward  till  he  either  pulls  the  reins  out  of  your 
hands  or  lifts  you  out  of  the  saddle,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment he  '11  give  you  a  blow  with  his  hind-quarters  in  the 
small  of  the  back.  Och,  murther  !  "  said  he,  placing  both 
hands  upon  his  loins,  and  writhing  as  he  spoke,  "  it  '11  be 
six  weeks  to-morrow  since  he  made  one  of  them  buck-leaps 
with  me,  and  I  never  walked  straight  since.  But  that  is 
not  all." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  I,  impatiently,  "  this  is  all  nonsense ! 
He  only  wants  a  man  with  a  little  pluck  to  bully  him  out 
of  all  this." 

As  I  said  these  valorous  words  I  own  that  to  my  own 
heart  I  did  n't  exactly  correspond  to  the  person  I  described  ; 
but  as  the  bottle  of  port  was  now  finished,  I  set  forth  with 


A  MOONLIGHT  CANTER.  229 

my  companion  to  pay  my  first  visit  to  this  redoubted 
animal. 

The  mill  where  the  stable  lay  was  about  a  mile  from  the 
town  ;  but  the  night  was  a  fine  moonlight  one,  with  not  an 
air  of  wind  stirring,  and  the  walk  delightful.  When  we 
reached  the  little  stream  that  turned  the  mill,  over  which  a 
plank  was  thrown  as  a  bridge,  we  perceived  that  a  country 
lad  was  walking  a  pair  of  saddle-horses  backwards  and  for- 
wards near  the  spot.  The  suspicion  of  some  trickery,  some 
tampering  with  the  horse,  at  once  crossed  me ;  and  I  hinted 
as  much  to  the  groom. 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  laughing ;  "  make  your  mind  easy 
about  that.  Mr.  Ulick  Burke  knows  the  horse  well,  and 
he'll  leave  it  all  to  himself." 

The  allusion  was  a  pleasant  one ;  but  I  said  nothing,  and 
walked  on. 

Having  procured  a  lantern  at  the  mill,  the  groom  pre- 
ceded me  to  the  little  out-house  which  acted  as  stable.  He 
opened  the  door  cautiously,  and  peeped  in. 

"  He  's  lying  down,"  said  he  to  me  in  a  whisper,  and  at 
the  same  moment  taking  the  candle  from  the  lantern  he 
held  it  up  to  permit  my  obtaining  a  better  view.  "  Don't 
be  afeard,"  continued  he,  "  he  '11  not  stir  now,  the  thief  of 
the  arth !  When  once  he 's  down  that  way,  he  lies  as 
peaceable  as  a  lamb." 

As  well  as  I  could  observe  him,  he  was  a  magnificent 
horse,  —  a  little  too  heavy  perhaps  about  the  crest  and 
forehand,  but  then  so  strong  behind,  such  powerful  muscle 
about  the  haunches,  that  his  balance  was  well  preserved. 
As  I  stood  contemplating  him  in  silence,  I  felt  the  breath 
of  some  one  behind  me.  I  turned  suddenly  around :  it  was 
Father  Tom  Loftus  himself.  There  was  the  worthy  priest, 
mopping  his  forehead  with  a  huge  pocket-handkerchief  and 
blowing  like  a  rhinoceros. 

"  Ugh ! "  said  he  at  length,  "  I  have  been  running  up  and 
down  the  roads  this  half-hour  after  you,  and  there's  not 
a  puff  left  in  me." 

"  Ah,  Father !  I  hoped  to  have  seen  you  at  the  inn." 


230  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Whisht !  I  darn't.  I  thought  I  'd  do  it  better  my  own 
way  ;  but,  see  now,  we  've  no  time  to  lose.  I  knew  as  well 
as  yourself  you  never  intended  to  ride  this  race.  No  mat- 
ter ;  don't  say  a  word,  but  listen  to  me.  I  know  the  horse 
better  than  any  one  in  these  parts ;  and  it  is  n't  impossible, 
if  you  can  keep  the  saddle  over  the  first  two  or  three  fences, 
that  you  may  win.  I  say,  if  you  can,  —  for,  faith,  it 's  not 
in  a  'swing-swong'  you'll  be  !  But,  come  now,  the  course 
was  marked  out  this  evening.  Burke  was  over  it  before 
dinner;  and,  with  a  blessing,  we  will  be  before  supper. 
I  've  got  a  couple  of  hacks  here  that  '11  take  us  over  every 
bit  of  it,  and  perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  you  might 
have  a  worse  guide." 

"  Faith,  your  reverence,"  chimed  in  the  groom,  "  he  'd 
find  it  hard  to  have  a  better." 

Thanking  the  kind  priest  for  his  good-natured  solicitude, 
I  followed  him  out  upon  the  road,  where  the  two  horses 
were  waiting  us. 

"  There,  now,"  said  he,  "  get  up  ;  the  stirrups  are  about 
your  length.  He  looks  a  little  low  in  flesh,  but  you  '11  not 
complain  of  him  when  he  's  under  you." 

The  next  moment  we  were  both  in  the  saddle.  Taking  a 
narrow  path  that  led  off  from  the  high-road,  we  entered  a 
large  tilled  field,  keeping  along  the  headlands  of  which  we 
came  to  a  low  stone-wall,  through  a  gap  of  which  we  passed, 
and  came  out  upon  an  extensive  piece  of  grass-land,  that 
gently  sloped  away  from  where  we  were  standing  to  a  lit- 
tle stream  at  its  base,  an  arm  of  that  which  supplied  the 
mill. 

"Here,  now,"  said  the  priest,  "a  little  to  the  left  yonder 
is  the  start.  You  come  down  this  hill ;  you  take  the  water 
there,  and  you  keep  along  by  Freney's  house,  where  you 
see  the  trees  there.  There  's  only  a  small  stone-wall,  and  a 
clay  ditch  between  this  and  that ;  afterwards  you  turn  off  to 
the  right.  But,  come  now,  are  you  ready  ?  We  '11  explore 
a  bit." 

As  he  spoke,  the  good  priest,  putting  spurs  to  his  hack- 
ney, dashed   on  before   me,  and  motioning  me   to  follow, 


A  MOONLIGHT  CANTER.  231 

cantered  down  the  slope.  Taking  the  little  mill-stream  at 
a  fly,  he  turned  in  his  saddle  to  watch  my  performance. 

"  Neat !  mighty  neat !  "  cried  he,  encouraging  me.  "  Keep 
your  hand  a  little  low.     The  next  is  a  wall  —  " 

Scarcely  had  he  spoke  when  we  both  came  together  at  a 
stone  fence,  about  three  feet  high.  This  time  I  was  a  little 
in  advance,  as  my  horse  was  fresher,  and  took  it  first. 

"Oh,  the  devil  a  better!"  said  Father  Tom.  "Burke 
himself  could  n't  beat  that !  Here,  now :  keep  this  way 
out  of  the  deep  ground,  and  rush  him  at  the  double  ditch 
there." 

Resolved  on  securing  his  good  opinion,  I  gripped  my 
saddle  firmly  with  my  knees,  and  rode  at  the  fence.  Over 
we  went  in  capital  style ;  but  lighting  on  the  top  of  a  rotten 
ditch,  the  ground  gave  way,  and  my  horse's  hind  legs  slipped 
backwards  into  the  gripe.  Being  at  full  stretch,  the  poor 
animal  had  no  power  to  recover  himself,  so  that  disengag- 
ing his  fore-legs  I  pulled  him  down  into  the  hollow,  and 
then  with  a  vigorous  dash  of  the  spur  and  a  bold  lift  carried 
him  clean  over  it  into  the  field. 

" Look,  now!"  said  the  priest ;  "that  pleases  me  better 
than  all  you  did  before  !  Presence  of  mind,  —  that 's  the 
real  gift  for  a  horseman  when  he  's  in  a  scrape;  but,  mind 
me,  it  was  your  own  fault,  for  here 's  the  way  to  take  the 
fence."  So  saying,  he  made  a  slight  semi-circle  in  the 
field,  and  then,  as  he  headed  his  horse  towards  the  leap, 
rushed  him  at  it  furiously,  and  came  over  like  the  bound 
of  a  stag. 

"  Now,"  said  Father  Tom,  pointing  with  his  whip  as  he 
spoke,  "we  have  a  beautiful  bit  of  galloping-ground  before 
us ;  and  if  you  ever  reach  this  far,  and  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  n't,  here  's  where  you  ought  to  make  play.  Listen 
to  me,  now,"  said  he,  dropping  his  voice.  "  Tom  Molloy's 
mare  is  n't  thoroughbred,  though  they  think  she  is  ;  she  has 
got  a  bad  drop  in  her.  Now,  the  horse  is  all  right,  clean 
bred,  sire  and  dam,  by  reason  he  '11  be  able  to  go  through 
the  dirt  when  the  mare  can't ;  so  that  all  you  've  to  do,  if, 
as  I  said  befere,  you  get  this  far,  is  to  keep  straight  down 


232  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

to  the  two  thorn-bushes,  —  there,  you  see  them  yonder. 
Burke  won't  be  able  to  take  that  line,  but  must  keep  upon 
the  head-lands,  and  go  all  round  yonder,  —  look,  now,  you 
see  the  difference,  —  so  that  before  he  can  get  over  that 
wide  ditch  you'll  be  across  it,  and  making  for  the  stone- 
wall. After  that,  by  the  powers,  if  you  don't  win,  I  can't 
help  you ! " 

"  Where  does  the  course  turn  after,  Father  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh,  a  beautiful  line  of  flat  country,  intersprinkled  with 
walls,  ditches,  and  maybe  a  hedge  or  two,  but  all  fair,  and 
only  one  rasping  fence,  —  the  last  of  all.  After  that,  you 
have  a  clean  gallop  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  over  as  nice 
a  sod  as  ever  you  cantered." 

"  And  that  last  fence,  what  is  it  like  ?  " 

"Faith,  it  is  a  rasper!  It's  a  wide  gully,  where  there 
was  a  boreen  once,  and  they  say  it  is  every  inch  of  sixteen 
feet ;  that  '11  make  it  close  upon  twenty  when  you  clear  the 
clay  on  both  sides.  The  gray  horse,  I  'm  told,  has  a  way 
of  jumping  in  and  jumping  out  of  these  narrow  roads ;  but 
take  my  advice,  and  go  it  in  a  fly.  —  And  now,  Captain, 
what  between  the  running  and  the  riding  and  the  talking 
altogether,  I  am  as  dry  as  a  lime-kiln ;  so  what  do  you  say 
if  we  turn  back  to  town,  and  have  a  bit  of  supper  together  ? 
There 's  a  kind  of  a  cousin  of  mine,  one  Bob  Mahon,  a  major 
in  the  Roscommon ;  and  he  has  got  a  grouse-pie,  and  some- 
thing hot  to  dilute  it  with,  waiting  for  us." 

"  Nothing  will  give  me  more  pleasure,  Father ;  and 
there 's  only  one  thing  more,  —  indeed,  I  had  nearly  for- 
gotten it  altogether  —  " 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  said  the  priest,  with  surprise. 

"Not  having  any  intention  to  ride,  I  left  town  without 
any  racing  equipment ;  breeches  and  boots  I  have,  but  as 
to  a  cap  and  a  jacket  —  " 

"  I  've  provided  for  both,"  said  Father  Tom.  "  You  saw 
the  little  man  with  a  white  head  that  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  —  Tom  Dillon  of  Mount  Brown  :  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  acquainted  with  him." 

"  Well,  he  knows  you  ;  that 's  all  the  same.     His  son, 


A  MOONLIGHT   CANTER.  233 

that's  just  gone  to  Gibraltar  with  his  regiment,  was  about 
your  size,  and  he  had  a  new  cap  and  jacket  made  for  this 
very  race,  and  of  course  they  are  lying  there  and  doing 
nothing.  So  I  sent  over  a  little  gossoon  with  a  note,  and 
I  don't  doubt  but  they  are  all  at  the  inn  this  moment." 

"  By  Jove,  Father ! "  said  I,  "  you  are  a  real  friend,  and  a 
most  thoughtful  one,  too." 

"  Maybe  I  '11  do  more  than  that  for  you,"  said  he,  with  a 
sly  wink  of  his  eye,  that  somehow  suggested  to  my  mind 
that  he  knew  more  of  and  took  a  deeper  interest  in  me  than 
I  had  reason  to  believe. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MAJOR   MAHON   AND    HIS    QUARTERS. 

The  major's  quarters  were  fixed  in  one  of  the  best  houses 
in  the  town,  in  the  comfortable  back-parlor  of  which  was 
now  displayed  a  little  table  laid  for  three  persons.  A 
devilled  lobster,  the  grouse-pie  already  mentioned,  some 
fried  ham,  and  crisped  potatoes  were  the  viands ;  but  each 
was  admirable  in  its  kind,  and  with  the  assistance  of  an 
excellent  bowl  of  hot  punch  and  the  friendly  welcome  of 
the  host,  left  nothing  to  be  wished  for  or  desired. 

Major  Bob  Mahon  was  a  short,  thick-set  little  man,  with 
round  blue  eyes,  a  turned-up  nose,  and  a  full  under  lip, 
which  he  had  a  habit  of  protruding  with  an  air  of  no  mean 
pretension ;  a  short  crop  of  curly  black  hair  covered  a  head 
as  round  as  a  billiard-ball.  These  traits,  with  a  certain 
peculiar  smack  of  his  mouth,  by  which  he  occasionally 
testified  the  approval  of  his  own  eloquence,  were  the  most 
remarkable  things  about  him.  His  great  ambition  was  to 
be  thought  a  military  man ;  but  somehow  his  pretensions 
in  this  respect  smacked  much  more  of  the  militia  than  the 
line.  Indeed,  he  possessed  a  kind  of  adroit  way  of  assert- 
ing the  superiority  of  the  former  to  the  latter,  averring  that 
they  who  fought  pro  aris  et  focis  —  the  major  was  fond  of 
Latin  —  stood  on  far  higher  ground  than  the  travelled  mer- 
cenaries who  only  warred  for  pay.  This  peculiarity,  and 
an  absurd  attachment  to  practical  jokes,  the  result  of  which 
had  frequently  through  life  involved  him  in  law-suits, 
damages,  compensations,  and  even  duels,  formed  the  great 
staple  of  his  character,  —  of  all  which  the  good  priest  in- 
formed me  most  fully  on  our  way  to  the  house. 


MAJOR   MAHON  AND   HIS   QUARTERS.  235 

"  Captain  Hinton,  I  believe,"  said  the  major,  as  he  held 
out  his  hand  in  welcome. 

"Mr.  Hinton,"  said  I,  bowing. 

"  Ay,  ye's ;  Father  Tom,  there,  does  n't  know  much  about 
these  matters.     What  regiment,  pray  ?  " 

"  The  Grenadier  Guards." 

"  Oh,  a  very  good  corps,  mighty  respectable  corps,  —  not 
that,  between  ourselves,  I  think  over-much  of  the  regulars  ; 
between  you  and  me,  I  never  knew  foreign  travel  do  good 
to  man  or  beast.  What  do  they  bring  back  with  them,  I  'd 
like  to  know?  —  French  cookery  and  Italian  licentiousness. 
No,  no  ;  give  me  the  native  troops  !  You  were  a  boy  at 
the  time,  but  maybe  you  have  heard  how  they  behaved  in 
the  west,  when  Hoche  landed.  Egad  !  if  it  was  n't  for  the 
militia  the  country  was  sacked.  I  commanded  a  company 
of  the  Roscommon  at  the  time.  I  remember  well  we  laid 
siege  to  a  windmill,  held  by  a  desperate  fellow,  the  miller,  — 
a  resolute  character,  Mr.  Hinton ;  he  had  two  guns  in  the 
place  with  him." 

"  I  wish  to  the  Lord  he  had  shot  you  with  one  of  them,  and 
we  'd  have  been  spared  this  long  story  !  "  said  the  priest. 

"I  opened  a  parallel  —  " 

"  Maybe  you  'd  open  the  pie  ?  "  said  the  priest,  as  he  drew 
his  chair,  and  sat  down  to  the  table.  "  Perhaps  you  forget, 
Bob,  we  have  had  a  sharp  ride  of  it  this  evening  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  conscience,  so  I  did,"  replied  the  major,  good- 
humoredly.  "  So  let  us  have  a  bit  of  supper  now,  Mr.  Hin- 
ton, and  I  '11  finish  my  story  by-and-by." 

"The  Heavens  forbid!"  piously  ejaculated  the  priest, 
as  he  helped  himself  to  a  very  considerable  portion  of  the 
lobster. 

"  Is  this  a  fast,  Father  Loftus  ?  "  said  I,  slyly. 

"  No,  my  son,  but  we  '11  make  it  one.  That  reminds  me 
of  what  happened  to  me  going  up  in  the  boat.  It  was  a 
Friday,  and  the  dinner,  as  you  may  suppose,  was  not  over- 
good.  But  there  was  a  beautiful  cut  of  fried  salmon  just 
before  me,  —  about  a  pound  and  a  half,  maybe  two  pounds  ; 
this  I  slipped  quietly  on  my  plate,  observing  to  the  com- 


236  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

pany,  in  this  way,  '  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  a  fast  day 
with  me  — '  when  a  big  fellow,  with  red  whiskers,  stooped 
across  the  table,  cut  my  bit  of  fish  in  two  halves,  calling  out 
as  he  carried  off  one,  '  Bad  scran  to  ye  !  d'  ye  think  nobody 
has  a  sowl  to  be  saved  but  yourself  ?  '  " 

"  Ah,  they  're  a  pious  people,  are  the  Irish ! "  said  the 
major,  solemnly,  "  and  you  '11  remark  that  when  you  see 
more  of  them.  And  now,  Captain,  how  do  you  like  us 
here  ?  " 

"  Exceedingly,"  said  I,  with  warmth.  "  I  have  had  every 
reason  to  be  greatly  pleased  with  Ireland." 

"  That 's  right !  and  I  'm  glad  of  it !  though,  to  be  sure, 
you  have  not  seen  us  in  our  holiday  garb.  Ah,  if  you  were 
here  before  the  Union ;  if  you  saw  Dublin  as  I  remember 
it,  and  Tom  there  remembers  it,  — '  that  was  a  pleasant 
place.'  It  was  not  trusting  to  balls  and  parties,  to  dinners 
and  routs,  but  to  all  kinds  of  fun  and  devilment  besides. 
All  the  members  of  Parliament  used  to  be  skylarking  about 
the  city,  playing  tricks  on  one  another,  and  humbugging 
the  Castle  people.  And,  to  be  sure,  the  Castle  was  not  the 
grave,  stupid  place  it  is  now;  they  were  convivial,  jovial 
fellows  —  " 

"Come,  come,  Major,"  interrupted  I;  "you  are  really 
unjust!     The  present  court  is  not  the  heavy  — " 

"  Sure,  I  know  what  it  is  well  enough.  Has  n't  the  duke 
all  the  privy  council  and  the  bishops  as  often  to  dinner  as 
the  garrison  and  the  bar  ?  Is  n't  he  obliged  to  go  to  his 
own  apartment  when  they  want  to  make  a  night  of  it,  and 
sing  a  good  chorus  ?  Don't  tell  me  !  Sure,  even  as  late  as 
Lord  Westmoreland's  time  it  was  another  thing ;  pleasant 
and  happy  times  they  were,  and  the  country  will  never  be 
the  same  till  we  have  them  back  again  ! " 

Being  somewhat  curious  to  ascertain  in  what  particular 
our  degeneracy  consisted,  —  for  in  my  ignorance  of  better, 
I  had  hitherto  supposed  the  present  regime  about  as  gay  a 
thing  as  need  be,  —  I  gradually  led  the  major  on  to  talk  of 
those  happier  days  when  Ireland  kept  all  its  fun  for  home 
consumption,  and  ntver  exported  even  its  surplus  produce. 


MAJOR   MAHON   AND   HIS   QUARTERS.  237 

"  It  was  better  in  every  respect,"  responded  the  major. 
"  Had  n't  we  all  the  patronage  amongst  us  ?  There 's  Jonah, 
there  —  Barrington,  I  mean ;  well,  he  and  I  could  make  any- 
thing, from  a  tide-waiter  to  a  master  in  Chancery.  It 's 
little  trouble  small  debts  gave  us  then ;  a  pipe  of  sherry 
never  cost  me  more  than  a  storekeeper  in  the  ordnance,  and 
I  kept  my  horses  at  livery  for  three  years  with  a  washwoman 
to  Kilmainham  Hospital.  And  as  for  fun,  —  look  at  the 
Castle  now !  Don't  I  remember  the  times  when  we  used 
to  rob  the  coaches  coming  from  the  drawing-rooms,  —  and 
pretty  girls  they  were  inside  of  them  !  " 

"  For  shame,  for  shame ! "  cried  Father  Tom,  with  a 
sly  look  in  the  corner  of  his  eye  that  by  no  means  be- 
spoke a  suitable  degree  of  horror  at  such  unwarrantable 
proceedings. 

"  Well,  if  it  was  a  shame  it  was  no  sin,"  responded  the 
major;  -'for  we  never  took  anything  more  costly  than 
kisses.  Ah,  dear  me !  them  was  the  times !  And,  to  be 
sure,  every  now  and  then  we  got  a  pull-up  from  the  lady- 
lieutenant,  and  were  obliged  to  behave  ourselves  for  a  week 
or  two  together.  One  thing  she  never  could  endure  was  a 
habit  we  had  of  leaving  the  Castle  before  they  themselves 
left  the  ball-room.  I  'm  not  going  to  defend  it,  —  it  was 
not  very  polite,  I  confess  ;  but  somehow  or  other  there  was 
always  something  going  on  we  could  n't  afford  to  lose,  — 
maybe  a  supper  at  the  barrack,  or  a  snug  party  at  Daly's, 
or  a  bit  of  fun  elsewhere.  Her  Excellency,  however,  got 
angry  about  it,  and  we  got  a  quiet  hint  to  reform  our  man- 
ners. This,  I  need  not  tell  you,  was  a  hopeless  course  ;  so 
we  hit  on  an  expedient  that  answered  to  the  full  as  well. 
It  was  by  our  names  being  called  out,  as  the  carriages  drove 
up,  that  our  delinquency  became  known.  So  Matt  Fortes- 
cue  suggested  that  we  should  adopt  some  feigned  nomen- 
clature, which  would  totally  defy  every  attempt  at  discovery; 
the  idea  was  excellent,  and  we  traded  on  it  for  many  a  day 
with  complete  success.  One  night,  however,  from  some 
cause  or  other,  the  carriages  were  late  in  arriving,  and  we 
were  all  obliged  to  accompany  the  court  into  the  supper- 


238  JACK   HIXTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

room.  Angry  enough  we  were ;  but  still  there  was  no  help 
for  it ;  and  so  '  smiling  through  tears,'  as  the  poet  says,  in 
we  went.  Scarcely,  however,  had  we  taken  our  places 
when  a  servant  called  out  something  from  the  head  of  the 
stairs ;  another  re-echoed  it  at  the  antechamber,  and  a  third 
at  the  supper-room  shouted  out,  '  Oliver  Cromwell's  carriage 
stops  the  way  ! '  The  roar  of  laughter  the  announcement 
caused  shook  the  very  room ;  but  it  had  scarcely  subsided 
when  there  was  another  call  for  '  Brian  Boru's  coach,' 
quickly  followed  by  'Guy  Fawkes'  and  'Paddy  0'Raffert3r's 
jingle,'  which  latter  personage  was  no  other  than  the  Dean 
of  Cork.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  we  kept  our  secret,  and 
joined  in  the  universal  opinion  of  the  whole  room  'that  the 
household  was  shamefully  disguised  in  drink  ; '  and  indeed 
there  was  no  end  to  the  mistakes  that  night,  for  every  now 
and  then  some  character  in  heathen  or  modern  history 
would  turn  up  among  the  announcements ;  and  as  the 
laughter  burst  forth,  the  servants  would  grow  ashamed  for 
a  while,  and  refuse  to  call  any  carriage  where  the  style  and 
title  was  a  little  out  of  the  common.  Ah,  Mr.  Hinton,  if 
you  had  lived  in  those  days —  Well,  well,  no  matter; 
here  's  a  glass  to  their  memory,  any  way.  It  is  the  first 
time  you  've  been  in  these  parts,  and  I  suppose  you  have  n't 
seen  much  of  the  country  ?  " 

"  Very  little  indeed,"  replied  I ;  "  and  even  that  much 
only  by  moonlight." 

"I'm  afraid,"  said  Father  Tom,  half  pensively,  "that 
many  of  your  countrymen  take  little  else  than  a  '  dark 
view'  of  us." 

"  See,  now,"  said  the  major,  slapping  his  hand  on  the 
table  with  energy,  "  the  English  know  as  much  about  Pat 
as  Pat  knows  of  purgatory,  —  no  offence  to  you,  Mr.  Hin- 
ton. I  could  tell  you  a  story  of  a  circumstance  that  once 
happened  to  myself." 

"  No,  no,  Bob,"  said  the  priest ;  "  it  is  bad  taste  to  tell  a 
story  en  petit  comitL     I  '11  leave  it  to  the  captain." 

"  If  I  am  to  be  the  judge,"  said  I,  laughingly,  "  I  decide 
for  the  story." 


MAJOR  MAHON   AND   HIS   QUARTERS.  239 

"Let's  have  it,  then,"  said  the  priest.  "Come,  Bob,  a 
fresh  brew,  and  begin  your  tale." 

"You  are  a  sensual  creature,  Father  Tom,"  said  the 
major,  "and  prefer  drink  to  intellectual  discussion;  not 
but  that  you  may  have  both  here  at  the  same  time.  But  in 
honor  of  my  friend  beside  me  I  '11  not  bear  malice,  but  give 
you  the  story ;  and  let  me  tell  you  it  is  not  every  day  in  the 
week  a  man  hears  a  tale  with  a  moral  to  it,  particularly 
down  in  this  part  of  the  country." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   DEVIL'S    GRIP. 

"  The  way  of  it  was  this.  There  was  a  little  estate  of 
mine  in  the  county  of  Waterford  that  I  used  now  and  then 
to  visit  in  the  shooting-season.  In  fact,  except  for  that 
there  was  very  little  inducement  to  go  there;  it  was  a 
bleak,  ugly  part  of  the  country,  a  bad  market-town  near  it, 
and  not  a  neighbor  within  twelve  miles.  Well,  I  went  over 
there,  —  it  was,  as  well  as  I  remember,  December  two 
years.  Never  was  there  such  weather ;  it  rained  from 
morning  till  night,  and  blew  and  rained  from  night  till 
morning ;  the  slates  were  flying  about  on  every  side,  and 
we  used  to  keep  fellows  up  all  night,  that  in  case  the  chim- 
neys were  blown  away  we  'd  know  where  to  find  them  in 
the  morning.  This  was  the  pleasant  weather  I  selected  for 
my  visit  to  the  '  Devil's  Grip,'  —  that  was  the  name  of  the 
townland  where  the  house  stood ;  and  no  bad  name  either, 
for,  faith,  if  he  had  n't  his  paw  on  it  it  might  have  gone  in 
law,  like  the  rest  of  the  property.  However,  down  I  went 
there,  and  only  remembered  on  the  evening  of  my  arrival 
that  I  had  ordered  my  gamekeeper  to  poison  the  mountain 
to  get  rid  of  the  poachers ;  so  that,  instead  of  shooting,  — 
which,  as  I  said  before,  was  all  you  could  do  in  the  place, 
—  there  I  was,  with  three  brace  of  dogs,  two  guns,  and 
powder  enough  to  blow  up  a  church,  walking  a  big  dining- 
parlor  all  alone  by  myself,  as  melancholy  as  may  be. 

"You  may  judge  how  happy  I  was,  looking  out  upon  the 
bleak  country-side,  with  nothing  to  amuse  me  except  when 
now  and  then  the  roof  of  some  cabin  or  other  would  turn 
upside  down,  like  an  umbrella,  or  watching  an  old  wind-mill 


THE   DEVIL'S  GRIP.  241 

that  had  gone  clean  mad,  and  went  round  at  such  a  pace 
that  nobody  dare  go  near  it.  All  this  was  poor  comfort. 
However,  I  got  out  of  temper  with  the  place  ;  and  so  I 
sat  down,  and  wrote  a  long  advertisement  for  the  English 
papers,  describing  the  Devil's  Grip  as  a  little  terrestrial 
paradise,  in  the  midst  of  picturesque  scenery,  a  delightful 
neighborhood,  and  an  Arcadian  peasantry,  —  the  whole  to 
be  parted  with  (a  dead  bargain)  as  the  owner  was  about  to 
leave  the  country.  I  did  n't  add  that  he  had  some  thought 
of  blowing  his  brains  out  with  sheer  disgust  of  his  family 
residence.  I  wound  up  the  whole  with  a  paragraph  to  the 
effect,  that,  if  not  disposed  of  within  the  month,  the  pro- 
prietor would  break  it  up  into  small  farms.  I  said  this  be- 
cause I  intended  to  remain  so  long  there ;  and  although  I 
knew  no  purchaser  would  treat  after  he  saw  the  premises, 
yet  still  some  one  might  be  fool  enough  to  come  over  and 
look  at  them,  and  even  that  would  help  me  to  pass  the 
Christmas.  My  calculation  turned  out  correct ;  for  before 
a  week  was  over  a  letter  reached  me,  stating  that  a  Mr. 
Green,  of  No.  196  High  Holborn,  would  pay  me  a  visit  as 
soon  as  the  weather  moderated  and  permitted  him  to  travel. 
If  he  waits  for  that,  thought  I,  he  '11  not  find  me  here  ;  and 
if  it  blows  as  hard  for  the  next  week  he  '11  not  find  the 
house  either ;  so  I  mixed  another  tumbler  of  punch,  and 
hummed  myself  to  sleep  with  the  '  Battle  of  Boss.' 

"  It  was  about  four  or  five  evenings  after  I  received  this 
letter  that  old  Dan  M'Cormick,  —  a  kind  of  butler  I  have, 
a  handy  fellow ;  he  was  a  steward  for  ten  years  in  the  Holy- 
head packet,  —  burst  into  the  room  about  ten  o'clock,  when 
I  was  disputing  with  myself  whether  I  took  six  tumblers  or 
seven :  I  said  one,  the  decanter  said  the  other. 

"  <  It 's  blowing  terrible,  Mr.  Bob,'  said  Dan. 

"  '  Let  it  blow  !     What  else  has  it  to  do  ? ' 

"  '  The  trees  is  tumbling  about  as  if  the}'  was  drunk ;  there 
won't  be  one  left  before  morn.' 

"  '  They  're  right,'  says  I,  '  to  leave  that ;  for  the  soil  was 
never  kind  for  planting.' 

"  '  Two  of  the  chimneys  is  down,'  says  he. 

VOL.  I.  —  16 


242  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

" '  Devil  mend  them  !  '  said  I  ;  '  they  were  always 
smoking.' 

"  '  And  the  hall-door/  cried  he,  <  is  blown  flat  into  the 
hall.' 

"  '  It 's  little  I  care,'  said  I ;  '  if  it  could  n't  keep  out  the 
sheriff  it  may  let  in  the  storm,  if  it  pleases.' 

"  '  Murther  !  murther  ! '  said  he,  wringing  his  hands,  '  I 
wish  we  were  at  say  !  It 's  a  cruel  thing  to  have  one's  life 
perilled  this  way.' 

"  "While  we  were  talking,  a  gossoon  burst  into  the  room 
with  the  news  that  the  Milford  packet  had  just  gone  ashore 
somewhere  below  the  Hook  Tower,  —  adding,  as  is  always 
the  case  on  such  occasions,  that  they  were  all  drowned. 

"  I  jumped  up  at  this,  put  on  my  shooting-shoes,  buttoned 
up  my  frieze  coat,  and,  followed  by  Dan,  took  a  short  cut 
over  the  hills  towards  Passage,  where  I  now  found  the 
packet  had  been  driven  in.  Before  we  had  gone  half  a 
mile  I  heard  the  voices  of  some  country  people  coming  up 
the  road  towards  me ;  but  it  was  so  dark  you  could  n't  see 
your  hand. 

"  <  Who 's  there  ?  '  said  I. 

"  <  Tim  Molloy,  your  honor,'  was  the  answer. 

" '  What 's  the  matter,  Tim  ?  '  said  I.  '  Is  there  anything 
wrong  ? ' 

"  '  Nothing,  sir,  glory  be  to  God  !  It 's  only  the  corpse  of 
the  gentleman  that  was  drowned  there  below.' 

"  '  I  ain't  dead,  I  tell  you ;  I  'm  only  faint,'  called  out  a 
shrill  voice. 

"  '  He  says  he  's  better,'  said  Tim  ;  '  and  maybe  it 's  only 
the  salt  water  that's  in  him;  and,  faix,  when  we  found  him, 
there  was  no  more  spark  in  him  than  in  a  wet  sod.' 

"Well,  the  short  of  it  was,  we  brought  him  up  to  the 
house,  rubbed  him  with  gunpowder  before  the  fire,  gave 
him  about  half  a  pint  of  burnt  spirits,  and  put  him  to 
bed,  —  he  being  just  able  to  tell  me,  as  he  was  dropping 
asleep,  that  he  was  my  friend  from  No.  196  High  Holborn. 

"  The  next  morning  I  sent  up  Dan  to  ask  how  he  was,  and 
he  came  down  with  the  news  that  he  was  fast  asleep.     '  The 


THE  DEVIL'S  GRIP.  243 

best  thing  he  could  do,'  said  I ;  and  I  began  to  think  over 
what  a  mighty  load  it  would  have  been  upon  my  conscience 
if  the  decent  man  had  been  drowned.  '  For,  maybe,  after 
all,'  thought  I,  '  he  is  in  earnest ;  maybe  he  wished  to  buy 
a  beautiful  place  like  that  I  have  described  in  the  papers  ; ' 
and  so  I  began  to  relent,  and  wonder  with  myself  how  I 
could  make  the  country  pleasant  for  him  during  his  stay. 
'  It  '11  not  be  above  a  day  or  two  at  farthest,  particularly 
after  he  sees  the  place.  Ay,  there 's  the  rub ;  the  poor 
devil  will  find  out  then  that  I  have  been  hoaxing  him.' 
This  kept  fretting  me  all  day ;  and  I  was  continually  send- 
ing up  word  to  know  if  he  was  awake,  and  the  answer  always 
was  —  still  sleeping. 

"  Well,  about  four  o'clock,  as  it  was  growing  dark,  Oakley 
of  the  Fifth  and  two  of  his  brother-officers  came  bowling  up 
to  the  door,  on  their  way  to  Carrick.  Here  was  a  piece  of 
luck!  So  we  got  dinner  ready  for  the  party,  brought  a 
good  store  of  claret  at  one  side  of  the  fireplace,  and  a  plenti- 
ful stock  of  bog-fir  at  the  other,  and  resolved  to  make  a 
night  of  it;  and  just  as  I  was  describing  to  my  friends 
the  arrival  of  my  guest  above  stairs,  who  should  enter  the 
room  but  himself.  He  was  a  round  little  fellow,  about  my 
size,  with  a  short,  quick,  business-like  way  about  him.  In- 
deed, he  was  a  kind  of  a  dry-salter,  or  something  of  that 
nature,  in  London ;  had  made  a  large  fortune,  and  wished 
to  turn  country  gentleman.  I  had  onty  time  to  learn  these 
few  particulars,  and  to  inform  him  that  he  was  at  that  mo- 
ment in  the  mansion  he  had  come  to  visit,  when  dinner  was 
announced. 

"  Down  we  sat ;  and,  faith,  a  jollier  party  rarely  met 
together.  Poor  Mr.  Green  knew  but  little  of  Ireland,  but 
we  certainly  tried  to  enlighten  him ;  and  he  drank  in  won- 
ders with  his  wine  at  such  a  rate  that  by  eleven  o'clock  he 
was  carried  to  his  room,  pretty  much  in  the  same  state  as 
on  his  arrival  the  night  before,  — the  only  difference  being, 
it  was  Sneyd,  not  salt-water,  this  time  that  filled  him. 

"  <  I  like  the  cockney,'  said  Oakley ;  '  that  fellow 's  good 
fun.     I  say,  Bob,  bring  him  over  with  you  to-morrow  to 


244  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

dinner.  We  halt  at  Carrick  till  the  detachment  comes 
up.' 

" '  Could  you  call  it  breakfast  ? '  said  I.  '  There  's  a 
thought  just  strikes  me :  we  '11  be  over  in  Carrick  with 
you  about  six  o'clock ;  we  '11  have  our  breakfast,  whatever 
you  like  to  give  us,  and  dine  with  you  about  eleven  or 
twelve  afterwards.' 

"Oakley  liked  the  project  well;  and  before  we  parted  the 
whole  thing  was  arranged  for  the  next  day. 

"  Towards  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following 
day  Mr.  Green  was  informed  by  Daniel,  that,  as  we  had 
made  an  engagement  to  take  an  early  breakfast  some  miles 
off,  he  ought  to  be  up  and  stirring ;  at  the  same  time  a  pair 
of  candles  were  brought  into  the  room,  hot  water  for  shav- 
ing, etc.,  and  the  astonished  cockney,  who  looked  at  his 
watch,  perceived  that  it  was  but  four. 

" '  These  are  very  early  people,'  thought  he.  '  However, 
the  habits  of  the  country  must  be  complied  with.'  So  say- 
ing, he  proceeded  with  his  toilette,  and  at  last  reached  the 
drawing-room  just  as  my  drag  dashed  up  to  the  door,  the 
lamps  fixed  and  shining,  and  everything  in  readiness  for 
departure. 

'"We  '11  have  a  little  shooting,  Mr.  Green,'  said  I.  'After 
breakfast,  we  '11  see  what  my  friend's  preserves  offer.  I 
suppose  you  're  a  good  shot  ? ' 

" '  I  can't  say  much  for  my  performance ;  but  I  'm  pas. 
sionately  fond  of  it.' 

" '  Well,'  added  I,  '  I  believe  I  can  answer  for  it  you  '11 
have  a  good  day  here.' 

"  So  chatting,  we  rolled  along,  the  darkness  gradually 
thickening  round  us,  and  the  way  becoming  more  gloomy 
and  deserted. 

" '  It 's  strange,'  says  Mr.  Green,  after  a  while,  — ' it 's 
strange,  how  very  dark  it  grows  before  sun-rise ;  for  I  per- 
ceive it 's  much  blacker  now  than  when  we  set  out.' 

"'Every  climate  has  its  peculiarities,'  said  I;  'and  now 
that  we  're  used  to  this,  we  like  it  better  than  any  other. 
But  see  there,  yonder,  where  you  observe  the  light  in  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  GRIP.  245 

valley,  —  that 's  Carriek.     My  friend's  house  is  a  little  at 

the  side  of  the  town.     I  hope  you  've  a  good  appetite  for 

breakfast.' 

" '  Trust  me  !  I  never  felt  so  hungry  in  my  life.' 

" '  Ah^  here  they  come  ! '  said  Oakley,  as  he  stood  with  a 

lantern  in  his  hand  at  the  barrack-gate ;   '  here  they  are ! 

Good  morning,  Mr.  Green.     Bob,  how  goes  it  ?     Heavenly 


morning 


p 


"  <  Delightful,  indeed,'  said  poor  Green,  though  evidently 
not  knowing  why. 

" '  Come  along,  boys,  now,'  said  Oakley ;  '  we  've  a  great 
deal  before  us,  —  though  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Green,  you  will 
think  little  of  our  Irish  sporting  after  your  English  pre- 
serves. However,  I  have  kept  a  few  brace  of  pheasants, 
very  much  at  your  service,  in  a  snug  clover-field  near  the 
house.     So  now  to  breakfast.' 

"  There  were  about  half-a-dozen  of  the  Fifth  at  that  time 
in  the  barrack,  who  all  entered  heart  and  hand  into  the 
scheme ;  and  with  them  we  sat  down  to  a  capital  meal, 
which,  if  it  was  not  for  a  big  tea-pot  and  an  urn  that  figured 
in  the  middle  of  the  table,  might  very  well  have  been  called 
dinner.  Poor  Mr.  Green,  who  for  old  prejudice'  sake  began 
with  his  congo  and  a  muffin,  soon  afterwards,  and  by  an  easy 
transition,  glided  into  soup  and  fish,  and  went  the  pace  with 
the  rest  of  us.  The  claret  began  to  circulate  briskly,  and 
after  a  couple  of  hours  the  whiskey  made  its  appearance. 
The  Englishman,  whose  attention  was  never  suffered  to 
flag  with  singular  anecdotes  of  a  country  whose  eccentrici- 
ties he  already  began  to  appreciate,  enjoyed  himself  to  the 
utmost.  He  laughed,  he  drank,  he  even  proposed  to  sing ; 
and  with  one  hand  on  Oakley's  shoulder,  and  the  other  on 
mine,  he  registered  a  vow  to  purchase  an  estate  and  spend 
the  rest  of  his  days  in  Ireland.  It  was  now  about  eleven 
o'clock,  when  I  proposed  that  we  should  have  a  couple  of 
hours  at  the  woodcocks  before  luncheon. 

"'Ah,  yes,'  said  Green,  rubbing  his  hands,  'let  us  not 
forget  the  shooting.     I  'm  passionately  fond  of  sport.' 

"It  took  some  time  to  caparison  ourselves  for  the  field. 


246  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Shot-bags,  flasks,  and  powder-horns  were  distributed  about, 
while  three  brace  of  dogs  caracoled  round  the  room  and  in- 
creased the  uproar.  We  now  sallied  forth.  It  was  a  dark 
and  starless  night,  the  wind  still  blowing  a  hurricane  from 
the  northeast,  and  not  a  thing  to  be  seen  two  yards  from 
where  you  stood. 

" '  Glorious  weather ! '  said  Oakley. 

"  '  A  delicious  morning ! '  cried  another.  '  When  those 
clouds  blow  over  we  shall  have  no  rain.' 

" '  That 's  a  fine  line  of  country,  Mr.  Green,'  said  I. 

"  '  Eh  !  what  ?  A  fine  what  ?  I  can  see  nothing ;  it 's 
pitch  dark.' 

"  '  Ah,  I  forgot,'  said  I.  '  How  stupid  we  were,  Oakley, 
not  to  remember  that  Mr.  Green  was  not  used  to  our  cli- 
mate !  We  can  see  everything,  you  know  ;  but  come  along, 
you  '11  get  better  by-and-by.' 

"  With  this  we  hurried  him  down  a  lane,  through  a 
hedge,  and  into  a  ploughed  field ;  while  on  every  side  of 
him  pop,  pop,  went  the  guns,  accompanied  by  exclamations 
of  enthusiastic  pleasure  and  delight. 

" '  There  they  go  —  mark  !  That 's  yours,  Tom  !  Well 
done  —  cock  pheasant,  by  Jove  !  Here,  Mr.  Green !  this 
way,  Mr.  Green  !  that  dog  is  pointing  —  there,  there  !  don't 
you  see  there  ? '  said  I,  almost  lifting  the  gun  to  his  shoul- 
der, while  poor  Mr.  Green,  almost  in  a  panic  of  excitement 
and  trepidation,  pulled  both  triggers,  and  nearly  fell  back 
with  the  recoil. 

"  '  Splendid  shot,  begad !  —  killed  both,'  said  Oakley. 
'  Ah,  Mr.  Green,  we  have  no  chance  with  you !  Give  him 
another  gun  at  once.' 

"  '  I  should  like  a  little  brandy,'  said  Mr.  Green,  <  for  my 
feet  are  wet.' 

"  I  gave  him  my  flask,  which  he  emptied  at  a  pull ;  while 
at  the  same  time,  animated  with  fresh  vigor,  he  tramped 
manfully  forward  without  fear  or  dread.  The  firing  still 
continued  hotly  around  us  ;  and  as  Mr.  Green  discharged 
his  piece  whenever  he  was  bid,  we  calculated  that  in  about 
an  hour  and  a  half  he  had  fired  above  a  hundred  and  fifty 


OF   TyE     <^ 


OF 


THE   DEVIL'S   GRIP.  247 

times.  Wearied  and  fatigued  by  his  exertions,  at  length  he 
sat  down  upon  a  bank ;  while  one  of  the  game-keepers 
covered  the  ground  about  him  with  ducks,  hens,  and  turkey- 
cocks,  as  the  spoils  of  his  exertions. 

"At  Oakley's  proposal  we  now  agreed  to  go  back  to 
luncheon,  which  I  need  not  tell  you  was  a  hot  supper, 
followed  by  mulled  claret  and  more  punch.  Here  the  cock- 
ney came  out  still  better  than  before.  His  character  as  a 
sportsman  raised  him  in  his  own  esteem,  and  he  sang  '  The 
Poacher'  for  two  hours,  until  he  fell  fast  asleep  on  the  car- 
pet. He  was  then  conveyed  to  bed,  where,  as  on  the 
former  day,  he  slept  till  late  in  the  afternoon. 

"  Meanwhile,  I  had  arranged  another  breakfast-party  at 
Ross,  where  we  arrived  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
—  and  so  on  for  the  rest  of  the  week,  occasionally  varying 
the  amusement   by  hunting,  fishing,  or  coursing. 

"  At  last  poor  Mr.  Green,  when  called  on  one  morning  to 
dress,  sent  down  Dan  with  his  compliments  that  he  wished 
to  speak  to  me.  T  went  to  him  at  once,  and  found  him 
sitting  up  in  his  bed. 

"  '  Ah,  Mr.  Mahon,'  said  he,  '  this  will  never  do :  it's  a 
pleasant  life,  no  doubt,  but  I  never  could  go  on  with  it. 
Will  you  tell  me  one  thing,  —  do  you  never  see  the  sun 
here  ? ' 

" '  Oh,  bless  you  !  yes,'  said  I ;  '  repeatedly.  He  was  out 
for  two  hours  on  last  Patrick's  day ;  and  we  have  him 
now  and  then,  promiscuously  ! ' 

"  '  How  very  strange,  how  very  remarkable,'  said  he,  with 
a  sigh,  '  that  we  in  England  should  know  so  little  of  all 
this !  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  think  I  ever  could 
get  used  to  Lapland  —  it 's  Ireland  I  mean  ;  I  beg  your 
pardon  for  the  mistake.  And  now  may  I  ask  you  another 
question, — is  this  the  way  you  always  live?' 

" '  Why,  pretty  much  in  this  fashion ;  during  the  hazy 
season  we  go  about  to  one  another's  houses,  as  you  see; 
and  one  gets  so  accustomed  to  the  darkness  — ' 

"  '  Ah,  now,  don't  tell  me  that !  T  know  I  never  could,  — 
it 's  no  use  my  trying  it.     I  'm  used  to  the  daylight ;  I  have 


248  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

seen  it,  man  and  boy,  for  above  fifty  years,  and  I  never 
could  grope  about  this  way.  Not  but  that  I  am  very  grate- 
ful to  you  for  all  your  hospitality;  but  I  had  rather  go 
home.' 

"  '  You  '11  wait  for  morning,  at  all  events,'  said  I ;  '  you 
will  not  leave  the  house  in  the  dead  of  the  night  ? ' 

"  <  Oh,  indeed,  for  the  matter  of  that  it  does  n't  signify 
much;  night  and  day  is  much  about  the  same  thing  in 
this  country.' 

"And  so  he  grew  obstinate,  and,  notwithstanding  all  I 
could  say,  insisted  on  his  departure ;  and  the  same  evening 
he  sailed  from  the  quay  of  Waterford,  wishing  me  every 
health  and  happiness,  while  he  added,  with  a  voice  of 
trembling  earnestness,  — 

" '  Yes,  Mr.  Mahon,  —  pardon  me  if  I  am  wrong,  —  but 
I  wish  to  heaven  you  had  a  little  more  light  in  Ireland  ! ' " 

I  am  unable  to  say  how  far  the  good  things  of  Major 
Mahon's  table  seasoned  the  story  I  have  just  related ;  but  I 
confess  I  laughed  at  it  loud  and  long,  —  a  testimony  on 
my  part  which  delighted  the  major's  heart ;  for,  like  all 
anecdote-mongers,  he  was  not  indifferent  to  flattery. 

"  The  moral  particularly  pleases  me,"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  but  the  whole  thing 's  true  as  I  am  here.  Whisht ! 
there  's  somebody  at  the  door.     Come  in,  whoever  you  are." 

At  these  words  the  door  cautiously  opened,  and  a  boy  of 
about  twelve  years  of  age  entered.  He  carried  a  bundle 
under  one  arm,  and  held  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  here  it  is,"  said  Father  Tom.  "  Come  here,  Patsey, 
my  boy ;  here 's  the  penny  I  promised  you.  There,  now, 
don't  make  a  bad  use  of  your  money." 

The  little  fellow's  eyes  brightened,  and  with  a  happy 
smile  and  a  pull  of  his  forelock  for  a  bow  left  the  room 
delighted. 

"  Twelve  miles  —  ay,  and  long  miles  too  —  in  less  than 
three  hours !  Not  bad  travelling,  Captain,  for  a  bit  of  a 
gossoon  like  that." 

"And  for  a  penny,"  said  I,  almost  startled  with  surprise. 


THE  DEVIL'S   GRIP.  249 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  priest,  as  he  cut  the  cord  of  the 
package,  and  opened  it  on  the  table.  "  Here  we  are,  as 
nate  a  jacket  as  ever  I  set  my  eyes  on,  green  and  white, 
with  a  cap  of  the  same."  So  saying,  he  unfolded  the 
racing-costume,  which,  by  the  desire  of  both  parties,  I  was 
obliged  immediately  to  try  on.  "There  now,"  resumed  he; 
"  turn  about ;  it  fits  you  like  your  skin." 

"  It  looks  devilish  well,  upon  my  word,"  said  the  major. 
"Put  on  the  cap;  and  see,  too,  he  has  sent  a  whip,  —  that 
was  very  thoughtful  of  Dillon.  But  what's  this  letter 
here  ?  —  for  you,  I  think,  Mr.  Hinton." 

The  letter  was  in  a  lady's  hand;  I  broke  the  seal,  and 
read  as  follows :  — 

Mount  Brown,  Wednesday  Evening. 

Dear  Sir,  —  My  Uncle  Dillon  requests  that  you  will  give  us  the 
pleasure  of  your  company  to  dinner  to-morrow,  at  six  o'clock.  I 
have  taken  the  liberty  to  tell  him,  that,  as  we  are  old  acquaintances, 
you  will  perhaps  kindly  overlook  his  not  having  visited  you  to-day  ; 
and  I  shall  feel  happy  if  by  accepting  the  invitation,  you  will  sustain 
my  credit  on  this  occasion. 

He  desires  me  to  add  that  the  racing-jacket,  etc.,  are  most  perfectly 
at  your  service,  as  well  as  any  articles  of  horse-gear  you  may  be  in 
want  of. 

Believe  me,  dear  sir,  truly  yours, 

Lousia  Bellew. 

A  thrill  of  pleasure  ran  through  me  as  I  read  these  lines ; 
and  notwithstanding  my  efforts  to  conceal  my  emotion  from 
my  companions,  they  but  too  plainly  saw  the  excitement 
I  felt. 

"  Something  agreeable  there  !  You  don't  look,  Mr.  Hin- 
ton, as  if  that  were  a  latitat  or  a  bill  of  costs  you  were 
reading." 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  I,  laughing.  "  It  is  an  invitation  to 
dinner  from  Mount  Brown,  —  wherever  that  may  be." 

"The  best  house  in  the  county,"  said  the  major;  "and  a 
good  fellow  he  is,  Hugh  Dillon.     When  is  it  for  ?  " 

"To-morrow  at  six." 

"  Well,  if  he  has  not  asked  me  to  meet  you,  I  '11  invite 
myself,  and  we  '11  go  over  together." 


250  JACK  HIXTOX,   THE  GUAKDSMAX. 

"Agreed,"  said  I.  "But  how  shall  I  send  back  the 
answer  ?  " 

The  major  promised  to  send  his  servant  over  with  the 
reply,  which  I  penned  at  once. 

"Just  tell  Hugh,"  said  the  major,  "that  I  '11  join  you." 

I  blushed,  stammered,  and  looked  confused.  "  I  am  not 
writing  to  Mr.  Dillon,"  said  I,  "for  the  invitation  came 
through  a  lady  of  the  family,  Miss  Bellew,  —  his  niece,  I 
believe." 

"Whew!"  said  the  major,  with  a  long  whistle.  "Is  it 
there  we  are !  Oh,  by  the  powers,  Mr.  Hinton  !  that 's  not 
fair, — to  come  down  here  not  only  to  win  our  money  in 
a  steeple-chase,  but  to  want  to  carry  off  the  belle  of  our 
country  besides  !     That  '11  never  do." 

"She  doesn't  belong  to  you  at  all,"  said  Father  Tom; 
"  she  is  a  parishioner  of  mine,  and  so  were  her  father  and 
grandfather  before  her.  And  moreover  than  that,  she  is 
the  prettiest  girl,  and  the  best  too,  in  the  county  she  lives 
in,  —  and  that 's  no  small  praise,  for  it 's  Galway  I  'm  talk- 
ing of.  And  now  here 's  a  bumper  to  her,  and  who  '11 
refuse  it  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  certainly." 

"Nor  I,"  said  the  major,  as  we  drank  to  her  health  with 
all  the  honors. 

"Now  for  another  jug,"  quoth  the  major,  as  he  moved 
towards  the  fireplace  in  search  of  the  kettle. 

"  After  that  toast,  not  another  drop,"  said  I,  resolutely. 

"Well  said!"  chimed  in  the  priest;  "may  I  never,  if 
that  was  n't  very  Irish  !  " 

Firmly  resisting  all  the  major's  solicitations  to  resume 
my  place  at  the  table,  I  wished  both  my  friends  good- 
night; and  having  accepted  Bob  Mahons  offer  of  a  seat 
in  his  tax-cart  to  the  race,  I  shook  their  hands  warmly, 
and  took  my  leave. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE    STEEPLE-CHASE. 


I  did  not  awake  till  past  noon  the  next  day,  and  had 
only  completed  my  dressing  when  Major  Mahon  made  his 
appearance.  Having  pronounced  my  costume  accurate,  and 
suggested  that  instead  of  carrying  my  racing-cap  in  my  hat 
I  should  tie  the  string  round  my  neck  and  let  it  hang  down 
in  front,  he  assisted  me  on  with  my  great  coat,  in  which, 
notwithstanding  that  the  season  was  summer  and  the  day 
a  hot  one,  he  buttoned  me  up  to  the  chin  and  down  to  the 
knees. 

"  There,  now,"  said  he,  "  you  look  mighty  like  the  thing. 
Where  's  your  whip  ?  We  have  no  time  to  lose,  so  jump 
into  the  tax-cart,  and  let  us  be  off." 

As  my  reader  may  remember,  the  race-ground  lay  about  a 
mile  from  the  town ;  but  the  road  thither,  unlike  the  peace- 
ful quiet  of  the  preceding  night,  was  now  thronged  with 
people  on  foot  and  horseback.  Vehicles,  too,  of  every 
description  were  there.  Barouches  and  landaus,  hack- 
chaises,  buggies,  and  jaunting-cars,  whiskys,  noddies,  and 
in  fact  every  species  of  conveyance  pronounced  capable 
of  rolling  upon  its  wheels,  were  put  into  requisition.  Nor 
was  the  turn-out  of  cavalry  of  a  character  less  mixed. 
Horses  of  every  shape  and  color,  —  some  fat  from  grass ; 
others  lean,  like  anatomical  specimens :  old  and  young, 
rich  and  poor;  the  high-sheriff  of  the  county,  with  his 
flashy  four-in-hand ;  the  mendicant  on  his  crutches,  —  all 
pressed  eagerly  forward ;  and  as  I  surveyed  the  motley 
mass  I  felt  what  pleasure  I  could  take  in  the  scene  were 
I  not  engaged  as  a  principal  performer. 


252  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUAKDSMAN. 

On  reaching  the  course  we  found  it  already  occupied  by 
numerous  brilliant  equipages  and  a  strong  cavalcade  of 
horsemen ;  of  these  the  greater  number  were  well  mounted, 
and  amused  themselves  and  the  by-standers  by  leaping  the 
various  fences  around,  —  a  species  of  pastime  which  occa- 
sionally afforded  food  for  laughter,  many  a  soiled  coat  and 
broken  hat  attesting  the  color  and  consistence  of  the  clayey 
ground.  There  were  also  refreshment-booths  ;  stalls  for 
gaming  on  a  humble  scale ;  tables  laid  out  with  beer,  hard 
eggs,  and  gingerbread,  —  in  a  word,  all  the  ordinary  and  ex- 
traordinary preparations  which  accompany  any  great  assem- 
blage of  people  whose  object  is  amusement. 

A  temporary  railing  of  wood,  rudely  and  hastily  put  to- 
gether, enclosed  a  little  space  reserved  as  a  weighing-stand ; 
here  the  stewards  of  the  course  were  assembled,  along  with 
"  the  dons  "  of  the  country ;  and  into  this  privileged  sanc- 
tum was  I  introduced  by  the  major,  in  due  form.  All  eyes 
were  turned  on  me  as  I  entered ;  and  whether  from  the 
guardianship  of  him  who  acted  as  my  chaperon,  or  that  the 
costume  of  my  coat  and  overalls  had  propitiated  their  favor, 
I  cannot  say ;  but  somehow  I  felt  that  there  was  more  cour- 
tesy in  their  looks,  and  an  air  of  greater  civility  in  their 
bearing,  than  I  had  remarked  the  preceding  day  at  the 
town  hall.  True,  these  were  for  the  most  part  men  of  bet- 
ter stamp,  the  real  gentry  of  the  country,  who,  devotedly 
attached  to  field-sports,  had  come,  not  as  betting  characters, 
but  to  witness  a  race.  Several  of  them  took  off  their  hats 
as  I  approached,  and  saluted  me  with  politeness.  While 
returning  their  courtesy,  I  felt  my  arm  gently  touched,  and 
on  looking  around  perceived  Mr.  Dillon,  of  Mount  Brown, 
who,  with  a  look  of  most  cordial  greeting  and  an  outstretched 
hand,  presented  himself  before  me. 

"  You  '11  dine  with  us,  Mr.  Hinton,  I  hope  ?  "  said  he. 
"  No  apology,  pray.  You  shall  not  lose  the  ball,  for  my 
girls  insist  on  going  to  it ;  so  that  we  can  all  come  in  to- 
gether. There,  now,  that  is  settled.  Will  you  permit  me 
to  introduce  you  to  a  few  of  my  friends  ?  Here 's  Mr.  Barry 
Connolly  wishes  much  to  know  you.      You'll  pardon  me, 


THE   STEEPLE-CHASE.  253 

Mr.  Hinton,  but  your  name  is  so  familiar  to  me  through  my 
niece,  I  forget  that  we  are  not  old  acquaintances." 

So  saying,  the  little  man  took  my  arm  and  led  me  about 
through  the  crowd,  introducing  me  right  and  left.  Of  the 
names,  the  rank,  and  the  residences  of  my  new  friends  I 
knew  as  much  as  I  did  of  the  domestic  arrangements  of  the 
King  of  Congo ;  but  one  thing  I  can  vouch  for,  —  more  un- 
bounded civility  and  hospitable  attention  never  did  man 
receive.  One  gentleman  begged  me  to  spend  a  few  days 
with  him  at  his  shooting-lodge  in  the  mountains ;  another 
wanted  to  make  up  a  coursing-party  for  me ;  a  third  volun- 
teered to  mount  me  if  I  'd  come  down  in  the  hunting-season. 
One  and  all  gave  me  most  positive  assurance  that  if  I  re- 
mained in  the  country  I  should  neither  lack  bed  nor  board 
for  many  a  day  to  come. 

But  a  few  days  before,  and  in  my  ignorance,  I  had  set 
down  this  same  class  as  rude,  underbred,  and  uncivilized ; 
and  had  I  left  the  country  on  the  preceding  evening  I  should 
have  carried  away  my  prejudices  with  me.  The  bare  imi- 
tation of  his  better  that  the  squireen  presents  was  the  source 
of  this  blunder  ;  the  spurious  currency  had,  by  its  false  glit- 
ter, deteriorated  the  sterling  coin  in  my  esteem ;  but  now  I 
could  detect  the  counterfeit  from  the  genuine  metal. 

"  The  ladies  are  on  this  side,"  said  Mr.  Dillon.  "  Shall 
we  make  our  bow  to  them  ?  " 

"  You  '11  not  have  time,  Dillon,"  said  a  friend  who  over- 
heard his  remark ;  "  here  come  the  horses." 

As  he  spoke,  a  distant  cheer  rose  from  the  bottom  of  the 
hill,  which,  gradually  taken  up  by  those  nearer,  grew  louder 
and  louder,  till  it  filled  the  very  air. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  I,  eagerly. 

"  It 's  <  Jug  of  Punch,' "  said  a  person  beside  me.  "  The 
mare  was  bred  in  the  neighborhood,  and  excites  a  great  in- 
terest among  the  country  people." 

The  crowd  now  fell  back  rapidly,  and  Mr.  Burke,  seated 
in  a  high  tandem,  dashed  up  to  the  weighing-stand,  and 
giving  the  reins  to  his  servant  sprang  to  the  ground.  His 
costume  was  a  loose  coat  of  course  drab  cloth,  beset  on 


254  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

every  side  by  pockets  of  various  shapes  and  dimensions  ; 
long  gaiters  of  the  same  material  encased  his  legs  ;  and  the 
memorable  white  hat,  set  most  rakishly  on  his  head,  com- 
pleted his  equipment. 

Scarcely  had  he  put  foot  to  the  ground  when  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  his  obsequious  followers  ;  but  pay- 
ing little  or  no  attention  to  their  proffered  civilities,  he 
brushed  rudely  through  them,  and  walked  straight  up  to 
where  I  was  standing.  There  was  an  air  of  swaggering  in- 
solence in  his  manner  which  could  not  be  mistaken  ;  and  I 
could  mark,  that,  in  the  sidelong  glance  he  threw  about  him, 
he  intended  that  our  colloquy  should  be  for  the  public  ear. 
Nodding  familiarly,  while  he  touched  his  hat  with  one  fin- 
ger, he  addressed  me  :  — 

"Good  morning,  sir;  I  am  happy  to  have  met  you  so 
soon.  There  is  a  report  that  we  are  to  have  no  race  :  may 
I  ask  you  if  there  be  any  ground  for  it  ?  " 

"  Not  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  replied  I,  in  a  tone  of 
quiet  indifference. 

"  At  least,"  resumed  he,  "  there  would  seem  some  color 
for  the  rumor.  Your  horse  is  not  here  ;  I  understand  he 
has  not  left  the  stable ;  and  your  groom  is  among  the  crowd 
below.  I  only  asked  the  question,  as  it  affects  my  betting- 
book;  there  are  doubtless  here  many  gentlemen  among 
your  friends  who  would  wish  to  back  you." 

This  was  said  with  an  air  of  sneering  mockery  so  palpa- 
ble as  to  call  forth  an  approving  titter  from  the  throng  of 
satellites  at  his  back. 

Without  deigning  any  reply  to  his  observation,  I  whis- 
pered a  few  words  to  the  major,  who  at  once,  taking  a  horse 
from  a  farmer,  threw  himself  into  the  saddle  and  cantered 
off  to  the  mill.  . 

"In  fifteen  minutes  the  time  will  be  up,"  said  Mr. 
Burke,  producing  his  watch.  "  Is  n't  that  so,  Dillon  ? 
You  are  the  judge  here." 

"  Perfectly  correct,"  replied  the  little  man,  with  a  hasty, 
confused  manner  that  showed  me  in  what  awe  he  stood  of 
his  redoubted  relative. 


THE   STEEPLE-CHASE.  255 

"  Then  in  that  time  I  shall  call  on  you  to  give  the  word 
to  start;  for  I  believe  the  conditions  require  me  to  ride 
over  the  course,  with  or  without  a  competitor." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Burke  proceeded  leisurely  to  unbutton  his 
great-coat,  which,  with  the  assistance  of  his  friends,  he 
drew  off ;  two  sedulous  familiars  were  meanwhile  unbutton- 
ing his  gaiters,  and  in  a  few  seconds  he  stood  forth  what 
even  my  most  prejudiced  judgment  could  not  deny,  —  the 
very  beau  ideal  of  a  gentleman  rider.  His  jacket,  of  black- 
and-yellow,  bore  the  stains  of  more  than  one  race  ;  but  his 
whole  carriage,  not  less  than  his  costume,  looked  like  one 
who  felt  every  inch  the  jockey.  His  mare  was  led  within 
the  ropes  to  be  saddled,  —  a  proceeding  conducted  under 
his  own  eye,  and  every  step  of  which  he  watched  with  criti- 
cal nicety.  This  done,  he  sat  down  upon  a  bench,  and, 
with  watch  in  hand,  seemed  to  count  the  minutes  as  they 
flew  past. 

"  Here  we  are  !  here  we  are  !  all  right,  Hinton  ! "  shouted 
the  major,  as  he  galloped  up  the  hill.  "Jump  into  the 
scale,  my  lad ;  your  saddle  is  beside  you.  Don't  lose  a 
moment." 

"  Yes,  off  with  your  coat,"  said  another,  "  and  jump  in ! " 

Divesting  myself  of  my  outer  garments  with  a  speed  not 
second  to  that  of  Mr.  Burke,  I  took  my  saddle  under  my 
arm,  and  seated  myself  in  the  scale.  The  groom  fortu- 
nately had  left  nothing  to  a  moment,  and  my  saddle  being 
leaded  to  the  required  weight,  the  operation  took  not  a 
minute. 

"  Saddle  now  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  whispered  Dillon  ; 
"  for  Burke,  being  overweight,  won't  get  into  the  scale." 

While  he  was  yet  speaking  the  gallant  gray  was  led  in, 
covered  with  clothing  from  head  to  tail. 

"  All  was  quite  right,"  said  Mahon,  in  a  low  whisper ; 
"your  horse  won't  bear  a  crowd,  and  the  groom  kept  him 
stabled  to  the  last  moment.  You  are  in  luck  besides,"  con- 
tinued he  ;  "  they  say  he  is  in  a  good  temper  this  morning, 
and,  indeed,  he  walked  up  from  the  mill  as  gently  as  a 
lamb." 


256  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Mount,  gentlemen ! "  cried  Mr.  Dillon,  as,  with  watch 
in  hand,  he  ascended  a  little  platform  in  front  of  the 
weighing-stand. 

I  had  but  time  to  throw  one  glance  at  my  horse,  when 
the  major  gave  me  his  hand  to  lift  me  into  the  saddle. 

"  After  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Burke,  with  a  mock  politeness, 
as  he  drew  back  to  permit  me  to  pass  out  first. 

I  touched  my  horse  gently  with  the  snaffle,  but  he  stood 
stock  still;  I  essayed  again,  but  with  no  better  success. 
The  place  was  too  crowded  to  permit  of  any  attempt  to 
bully  him,  so  I  once  more  tried  gentle  means.  It  was  of  no 
use  ;  he  stood  rooted  to  the  ground.  Before  I  could  deter- 
mine what  next  to  do,  Mahon  sprang  forward  and  took  him 
by  the  head,  when  the  animal  walked  quietly  forward 
without  a  show  of  restiveness. 

"  He  's  a  droll  devil,"  said  the  groom,  "  and  in  one  of  his 
odd  humors  this  morning  ;  for  that 's  what  I  never  saw  him 
do  before." 

I  could  see  as  I  passed  out  that  this  little  scene,  short  as 
it  was,  had  not  impressed  the  by-standers  with  any  exalted 
notion  of  my  horsemanship ;  for  although  there  was  noth- 
ing actually  to  condemn,  my  first  step  did  not  seem  to 
augur  well.  Having  led  me  forth  before  the  stand,  the 
major  pointed  with  his  finger  to  the  line  of  country  before 
me,  and  was  repeating  the  priest's  injunctions,  when  Mr. 
Burke  rode  up  to  my  side,  and,  with  a  smile  of  very 
peculiar  meaning,  said,  — 

"  Are  you  ready  now,  sir  ?  " 

I  nodded  assent.     The  major  let  go  the  bridle. 

"  We  are  all  ready,  Dillon  !  "  cried  Burke,  turning  in  his 
saddle. 

"  All  ready  !  "  repeated  Dillon  ;  "then  away !  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  bell  rang,  and  off  we  went. 

For  about  thirty  yards  we  cantered  side  by  side,  the  gray 
horse  keeping  stroke  with  the  other,  and  not  betraying  the 
slightest  evidence  of  bad  temper.  Whatever  my  own  sur- 
prise, the  amazement  of  Burke  was  beyond  all  bounds.  He 
turned  completely  round  in  his  saddle  to  look,  and  I  could 


THE   STEEPLE-CHASE.  257 

see  in  the  workings  of  his  features  the  distrustful  expres- 
sion of  one  who  suspected  he  had  been  duped.  Meanwhile, 
the  cheers  of  the  vast  multitude  pealed  high  on  every  side ; 
and  as  the  thought  flashed  across  me  that  I  might  still 
acquit  myself  with  credit,  my  courage  rose,  and  I  gripped 
my  saddle  with  double  energy. 

At  the  foot  of  the  slope  there  was,  as  I  have  already 
mentioned,  a  small  fence ;  towards  this  we  were  now  ap- 
proaching at  the  easy  sling  of  a  hand-gallop,  when  suddenly 
Burke's  features  —  which  I  watched  from  time  to  time  with 
intense  anxiety  —  changed  their  expression  of  doubt  and 
suspicion  for  a  look  of  triumphant  malice.  Putting  spurs 
to  his  horse,  he  sprang  a  couple  of  lengths  in  advance,  and 
rode  madly  at  the  fence ;  the  gray  stretched  out  to  follow, 
and  already  was  I  preparing  for  the  leap,  when  Burke,  who 
had  now  reached  the  fence,  suddenly  swerved  his  horse 
round,  and,  affecting  to  balk,  cantered  back  towards  the 
hill.  The  manoeuvre  was  perfectly  successful.  My  horse, 
who  up  to  that  moment  was  going  on  well,  threw  his  fore- 
legs far  out,  and  came  to  a  dead  stop.  In  an  instant  the 
trick  was  palpable  to  my  senses ;  and  in  the  heat  of  my 
passion  I  dashed  in  both  spurs,  and  endeavored  to  lift  him 
by  the  rein.  Scarcely  had  I  done  so,  when,  as  if  the  very 
ground  beneath  had  jerked  us  upwards,  he  sprang  into 
the  air,  dashing  his  head  forward  between  the  fore-legs 
and  throwing  up  his  haunches  behind,  till  I  thought  we 
should  come  clean  over  in  the  summersault.  I  kept  my 
seat,  however;  and  thinking  that  boldness  alone  could 
do  at  such  a  moment,  I  only  waited  till  he  reached  the 
ground,  when  I  again  drove  the  spurs  up  to  the  rowels  in 
his  flanks.  With  a  snort  of  passion  he  bounded  madly 
up,  and  pawing  the  air  for  some  moments  with  his  fore- 
legs, lit  upon  the  earth,  panting  with  rage  and  trembling 
in  every  limb. 

The  shouts  which  now  filled  my  ears  seemed   but   like 

mockery  and  derision ;   and   stung   almost   to   madness,  I 

fixed  myself  in  my  seat,  pulled  my  cap  upon  my  brows,  and 

with  clinched  teeth  gathered   up  the  reins   to  renew  the 

vol.  i.  — 17 


258  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

conflict.  There  was  a  pause  now  for  a  few  seconds ;  both 
horse  and  man  seemed  to  feel  that  there  was  a  deadly  strife 
before  them,  and  each  seemed  to  collect  his  energy  for  the 
blow.  The  moment  came  ;  and  driving  in  the  spurs  with 
all  my  force,  I  struck  him  with  the  whip  between  the  ears. 
With  something  like  a  yell,  the  savage  animal  sprang  into 
the  air,  writhing  his  body  like  a  fish.  Bound  after  bound 
he  made,  as  though  goaded  on  to  madness ;  and  at  length, 
after  several  fruitless  efforts  to  unseat  me,  he  dashed 
straight  upwards,  struck  out  with  his  fore-legs,  poised  for 
a  second  or  two,  and  then  with  a  crash  fell  back  upon  me, 
rolling  me  to  the  ground,  bruised,  stunned,  and  senseless. 

How  long  this  state  lasted  I  cannot  tell ;  but  when  half 
consciousness  returned  to  me,  I  found  myself  standing  in 
the  field,  my  head  reeling  with  the  shock,  my  clothes  torn 
and  ragged.  My  horse  was  standing  beside  me,  with  some 
one  at  his  head;  while  another,  whose  voice  I  thought  I 
could  recognize,  called  out,  — 

"  Get  up,  man,  get  up  !  you  '11  do  the  thing  well  yet. 
There,  don't  lose  time." 

"  No,  no,"  said  another  voice,  "  it 's  a  shame.  The  poor 
fellow  is  half  killed  already;  and  there,  don't  you  see, 
Burke  's  at  the  second  fence  !  " 

Thus  much  I  heard,  amid  the  confusion  around  me ;  but 
more  I  know  not.  The  next  moment  I  was  in  the  saddle, 
with  only  sense  enough  left  to  feel  reckless  to  desperation. 
I  cried  out  to  leave  the  way,  and  turned  towards  the  fence. 
A  tremendous  cut  of  a  whip  fell  upon  the  horse's  quarter 
from  some  one  behind;  and,  like  a  shell  from  a  mortar,  he 
sprang  wildly  out.  With  one  fly  he  cleared  the  fence, 
dashed  across  the  field,  and  before  I  was  firm  in  my  seat 
was  over  the  second  ditch.  Burke  had  barely  time  to  look 
round  him  ere  I  had  passed.  He  knew  that  the  horse  was 
away  with  me,  but  he  also  knew  his  bottom,  and  that  if  I 
could  but  keep  my  saddle  the  chances  were  now  in  my 
favor. 

Then  commenced  a  terrible  struggle.  In  advance  of  him, 
about  four  lengths,  I  took  everything  before  me,  my  horse 


THE   STEEPLE-CHASE.  259 

flying  straight  as  an  arrow.  I  dared  not  turn  my  head,  but 
I  could  mark  that  Burke  was  making  every  effort  to  get  be- 
fore me.  We  were  now  approaching  a  tall  hedge,  beyond 
which  lay  the  deep  ground  of  which  the  priest  had  already 
spoken.  So  long  as  the  fences  presented  nothing  of  height, 
the  tremendous  pace  I  was  going  was  all  in  my  favor ;  but 
now  there  was  fully  five  feet  of  a  hedge  standing  before  me. 
Unable  to  collect  himself,  my  horse  came  with  his  full 
force  against  it,  and  chesting  the  tangled  branches,  fell 
head-foremost  into  the  field.  Springing  to  my  legs  un- 
hurt, I  lifted  him  at  once ;  but  ere  I  could  remount, 
Burke  came  bounding  over  the  hedge  and  lit  safely  beside 
me.  With  a  grin  of  malice  he  turned  one  look  towards 
me,  and  dashed  on. 

For  some  seconds  my  horse  was  so  stunned  he  could 
scarcely  move,  and  as  I  pressed  him  forward,  the  heavy 
action  of  his  shoulder  and  his  drooping  head  almost  bid  me 
to  despair.  By  degrees,  however,  he  warmed  up  and  got 
into  his  stride.  Before  me,  and  nearly  a  hundred  yards  in 
advance,  rode  Burke,  still  keeping  up  his  pace,  but  skirting 
the  head-lands  to  my  right.  I  saw  now  the  force  of  the 
priest's  remark,  that  were  I  to  take  a  straight  line  through 
the  deep  ground  the  race  was  still  in  my  favor.  But  dare  I 
do  so  with  a  horse  so  dead  beat  as  mine  was  ?  The  thought 
was  quick  as  lightning ;  it  was  my  only  chance  to  win,  and 
I  resolved  to  take  it.  Plunging  into  the  soft  and  marshy 
ground  before  me,  I  fixed  my  eye  upon  the  blue  flag  that 
marked  the  course.  At  this  moment  Burke  turned  and  saw 
me,  and  I  could  perceive  that  he  immediately  slackened  his 
pace.  Yes,  thought  I,  he  thinks  I  am  pounded,  but  it  is 
not  come  to  that  yet ;  in  fact,  my  horse  was  improving  at 
every  stride,  and  although  the  ground  was  trying,  his  breed- 
ing began  to  tell,  and  I  could  feel  that  he  had  plenty  of 
running  still  in  him.  Affecting,  however,  to  lift  him  at 
every  stroke,  and  seeming  to  labor  to  help  him  through,  I 
induced  Burke  to  hold  in  until  I  gradually  crept  up  to  the 
fence  before  he  was  within  several  lengths  of  it.  The  gray 
no  sooner  caught  sight  of  the  wall  than  he  pricked  up  his 


260  JACK   HIXTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ears  and  rushed  towards  it ;  with  a  vigorous  lift  I  popped 
him  over,  without  touching  a  stone.  Burke  followed  in 
splendid  style,  and  in  an  instant  was  alongside  of  me. 

Now  began  the  race  in  right  earnest.  The  cunning  of  his 
craft  could  avail  him  little  here,  except  as  regarded  the  su- 
perior management  of  his  own  horse ;  so  Burke,  abandon- 
ing every  ruse,  rode  manfully  on.  As  for  me,  my  courage 
rose  at  every  moment ;  and  so  far  from  feeling  any  fear,  I 
only  wished  that  the  fences  were  larger,  and  like  a  gambler 
who  would  ruin  his  adversary  at  one  throw,  I  would  have 
taken  a  precipice  if  he  pledged  himself  to  follow.  For  some 
fields  we  rode  within  a  few  yards  of  each  other,  side  by  side, 
each  man  lifting  his  horse  at  the  same  moment  to  his  leap, 
and  alighting  with  the  same  shock  beyond  it.  Already  our 
heads  were  turned  homewards,  and  I  could  mark  on  the 
distant  hill  the  far-off  crowds  whose  echoing  shouts  came 
floating  towards  us.  But  one  fence  of  any  consequence  re- 
mained ;  that  was  the  large  gripe  that  formed  the  last  of  the 
race.  We  had  cleared  a  low  stone  wall,  and  now  entered 
the  field  that  led  to  the  great  leap.  It  was  evident  that 
Burke's  horse,  both  from  being  spared  the  shocks  that  mine 
had  met  with,  and  from  his  better  riding,  was  the  fresher 
of  the  two ;  we  had  neither  of  us,  however,  much  to  boast 
of  on  that  score,  and  perhaps  at  a  calmer  moment  would 
have  little  fancied  facing  such  a  leap  as  that  before  us.  It 
was  evident  that  the  first  over  must  win ;  and  as  each  man 
measured  the  other's  stride,  the  intense  anxiety  of  the  mo- 
ment nearly  rose  to  madness. 

From  the  instant  of  entering  the  field  I  had  marked  out 
with  my  eye  where  I  meant  to  take  the  leap.  Burke  had 
evidently  done  this  also ;  and  we  now  slightly  diverged, 
each  to  his  allotted  spot.  The  pace  was  awful.  All  thought 
of  danger  lost  or  forgotten,  we  came  nearer  and  nearer  with 
knitted  brow  and  clinched  lip,  —  I,  the  first.  Already  I 
was  on  the  side ;  with  a  loud  cry  and  a  cut  of  my  whip  I 
rose  my  horse  to  it.  The  noble  beast  sprang  forward ;  but 
his  strength  was  spent,  and  he  fell  downwards  on  his  head. 
Recovering  him  without  losing  my  seat,  I  scrambled  up  the 


THE   STEEPLE-CHASE.  261 

opposite  bank  and  looked  round.  Burke,  who  had  pressed 
the  pace  so  hotly  before,  had  only  done  so  to  blow  my  horse 
and  break  him  down  at  his  leap ;  and  I  saw  him  now  ap- 
proaching the  fence  with  his  mare  fully  in  hand,  and  her 
haunches  well  under  her.  Unable  to  move  forward  save  at  a 
walk,  I  turned  in  my  saddle  to  watch  him.  He  came  boldly 
to  the  brink  of  the  fence ;  his  hand  was  up  prepared  to 
strike;  already  the  mare  was  collecting  herself  for  the 
effort,  when  from  the  bottom  of  the  gripe  a  figure  sprang 
wildly  up,  and  as  the  horse  rose  into  the  air,  he  jumped 
at  the  bridle,  pulling  down  both  the  horse  and  the  rider 
with  a  crash  upon  him,  a  loud  cry  of  agony  rising  'mid 
the  struggle. 

As  they  disappeared  from  my  sight  I  felt  like  one  in  a 
trance.  All  thoughts,  however,  were  lost  in  the  desire  to 
win  ;  and  collecting  my  energies  for  a  last  struggle,  T  lifted 
the  gallant  gray  with  both  hands,  and  by  dint  of  spurring 
and  shaking,  pressed  him  to  a  canter,  and  rode  in,  the  win- 
ner, amid  the  deafening  cheers  and  cries  of  thousands. 

"  Keep  back  !  keep  back !  "  cried  Mahon,  restraining 
with  his  whip  the  crowd  that  bore  down  upon  me.  "Hin- 
ton,  take  care  that  no  one  touch  your  horse  ;  ride  inside, 
take  off  your  saddle  and  get  into  the  scale." 

Moving  onwards  like  one  in  a  dream,  I  mechanically 
obeyed  the  direction,  while  the  cries  and  shouts  around  me 
grew  each  moment  louder  and  wilder. 

"Here  he  comes  !  here  he  comes !"  shouted  several  voices  ; 
and  Burke  galloped  up,  and  without  drawing  rein  rode  into 
the  weighing-stand. 

"  Foul  play  !  "  roared  he  in  a  tone  hoarse  with  passion. 
"  I  protest  against  the  race !  Holloa,  sir ! "  he  shouted,  turn- 
ing towards  me. 

"  There,  there,"  said  Mahon,  as  he  hurried  me  along 
towards  the  scale,  "you  have  nothing  to  do  with  him;" 
and  at  the  same  moment  a  number  of  others  pressed  eagerly 
forward  to  shake  my  hand  and  wish  me  joy. 

"  Look  here,  Dillon,"  cried  the  major,  "  mark  the  weight : 
twelve  stone  two,  and  two  pounds  over,  if  he  wanted  it. 


262  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

There,  now,"'  whispered  he  in  a  voice  which  though  not 
meant  for  my  hearing  I  could  distinctly  catch,  —  "there, 
now,  Dillon,  take  him  into  your  carriage  and  get  him  off 
the  ground  as  fast  as  you  can." 

Just  at  this  instant  Burke,  who  had  been  talking  with 
loud  voice  and  violent  gesticulation,  burst  through  the 
crowd,  and  stood  before  us. 

"  Do  you  say,  Dillon,  that  I  have  lost  this  race  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure  ! "  cried  out  full  twenty  voices. 

"  My  question  was  not  addressed  to  you,  sirs,"  said  he, 
boiling  with  passion;  "  I  ask  the  judge  of  this  course,  have 
I  lost  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Ulick  —  "  said  Dillon,  in  a  voice  scarce  audible 
from  agitation. 

"  No  cursed  palaver  with  me ! "  said  he,  interrupting. 
"  Lost  or  won,  sir,  —  one  word." 

"  Lost,  of  course,"  replied  Dillon,  with  more  of  firmness 
than  I  believed  him  capable. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Burke,  as  he  turned  towards  me,  his 
teeth  clinched  with  passion,  "  it  may  be  some  alloy  to  your 
triumph  to  know  that  your  accomplice 'has  smashed  his 
thigh-bone  in  your  service ;  and  yet  I  can  tell  you  you  have 
not  come  to  the  end  of  this  matter." 

Before  I  could  reply,  Burke's  friends  tore  him  from  the 
spot  and  hurried  him  to  a  carriage ;  while  I,  still  more  than 
ever  puzzled  by  the  words  I  had  heard,  looked  from  one  to 
the  other  of  those  around  for  an  explanation. 

"  Never  mind,  Hinton,"  said  Mahon,  as,  half-breathless 
with  running,  he  rushed  up  and  seized  me  by  the  hand. 
"  The  poor  fellow  was  discharging  a  double  debt  in  his 
own  rude  way,  —  gratitude  on  your  score,  vengeance  on 
his  own." 

"  Tally-ho !  tally-ho  !  Hark,  there  —  stole  away !  "  shouted 
a  wild  cry  from  without,  and  at  the  same  instant  four  coun- 
trymen came  forward,  carrying  a  door  between  them,  on 
which  was  stretched  the  pale  and  mangled  figure  of  Tippe- 
rary  Joe.  "A  drink  of  water  —  spirits  —  tay  —  anything 
for  the  love  of  the  Virgin !     I  'm  famished,  and  I  want  to 


THE   STEEPLE-CHASE. 


263 


drink  Captain  Phil's  health.  Ah,  darling !  "  said  he,  as  he 
turned  his  filmy  eyes  up  towards  me,  "  did  n't  I  do  it  beauti- 
ful ;  did  n't  I  pay  him  off  for  this  ?  "  With  these  words  he 
pointed  to  a  blue  welt  that  stretched  across  his  face,  from 
the  mouth  to  the  ear.  "  He  gave  me  that  yesterday,  for 
saying  long  life  and  success  to  you ! " 


"Oh,  this  is  too  horrible,"  said  I,  gasping  for  breath. 
"  My  poor  fellow  !  and  I  who  had  treated  you  so  harshly  ! " 
I  took  his  hand  in  mine,  but  it  was  cold  and  clammy ;  his 
features  were  sunken  too,  —  he  had  fainted. 

"Come,  Hinton,"  said  the  major,  "we  can  do  no  good 
here ;  let  us  move  down  to  the  inn  at  once,  and  see  after 
this  poor  boy." 

"  You  are  coming  with  us,  Mr.  Hinton  ?  "  cried  Dillon. 


264  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Not  now,  not  now,"  said  I,  while  my  throat  was  swell- 
ing with  repressed  emotion.  Without  suffering  me  to  say 
more,  Mahon  almost  lifted  me  into  the  tax-cart,  and  putting 
his  horse  to  the  gallop,  dashed  towards  the  town,  the  cheers 
of  the  people  following  us  as  we  went ;  for  to  their  wild 
sense  of  justice  Joe  was  a  genuine  martyr,  and  I  shared  in 
the  glory  of  his  self-devotion. 

The  whole  way  towards  Loughrea  Mahon  continued  to 
talk ;  but  not  a  word  could  I  catch.  My  thoughts  were 
fixed  on  the  poor  fellow  who  had  suffered  for  my  sake  ;  and 
I  would  have  given  all  I  possessed  in  the  world  to  have 
lost  the  race,  and  seen  him  safe  and  sound  before  me. 

"  There,  there,"  said  the  major,  as  he  shook  me  by  the 
arm  ;  "  don't  take  it  to  heart  this  way.  You  know  little  of 
Ireland,  that 's  plain  ;  that  poor  fellow  will  be  prouder  for 
the  feeling  you  have  shown  towards  him  this  night  than 
many  a  king  upon  his  throne.  To  have  served  a  gentle- 
man, to  have  put  him  under  an  obligation, — that  has  a 
charm  you  can't  estimate  the  extent  of.  Beware,  only  be- 
ware of  one  thing :  do  not  by  any  offer  of  money  destroy  the 
illusion;  do  what  you  like  for  him,  but  take  care  of  that." 

We  now  reached  the  little  inn ;  and  Mahon  —  for  I  was 
incapable  of  all  thought  or  exertion  —  got  a  room  in  readi- 
ness for  Joe,  and  summoning  the  doctor  of  the  place,  pro- 
vided everything  for  his  care  and  accommodation. 

"  Now,  Hinton,"  said  he,  as  he  burst  into  my  room,  "  all 's 
right.  Joe  is  comfortable  in  bed;  the  fracture  turns  out 
not  to  be  a  bad  one.  So,  rouse  yourself,  for  Dillon's  car- 
riage with  all  its  ladies  is  waiting  these  ten  minutes." 

" No,  no !  "  cried  I ;  "I  can't  go  to  this  dinner-party ! 
I'll  not  quit—" 

"  Nonsense,  man ! "  said  he,  interrupting  me,  "  you  can 
only  do  harm  here ;  the  doctor  says  he  must  be  left  quite 
quiet,  and  alone.  Besides,  Dillon  has  behaved  so  well  to- 
day, so  stoutly,  for  him,  that  you  must  n't  forget  it.  There, 
now,  where  are  your  clothes  ?     I  '11  pack  them  for  you." 

I  started  up  to  obey  him ;  but  a  giddiness  came  over  me, 
and  I  sank  into  my  chair,  weak  and  sick. 


THE   STEEPLE-CHASE  265 

"This  will  never  do,"  said  Mahon ;  "I  had  better  tell 
them  I'll  drive  you  over  myself.  And  now  just  lie  down 
for  an  hour  or  two,  and  keep  quiet." 

This  advice  I  felt  was  good ;  and  thanking  my  kind 
friend  with  a  squeeze  of  the  hand,  for  I  could  not  speak,  I 
threw  myself  upon  my  bed,  and  strange  enough,  while  such 
contending  emotions  disturbed  my  brain,  fell  asleep  almost 
immediately. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    DINNER-PARTY   AT   MOUNT    BROWN". 

I  awoke  refreshed  after  half-an-hour's  doze,  and  then 
every  circumstance  of  the  whole  day  was  clear  and  pal- 
pable before  me.  I  remembered  each  minute  particular, 
and  could  bring  to  my  mind  all  the  details  of  the  race  it- 
self, notwithstanding  the  excitement  they  had  passed  in, 
and  the  rapidity  with  which  they  succeeded  one  another. 

My  first  thought  was  to  visit  poor  Joe  ;  and  creeping 
stealthily  to  his  room,  I  opened  the  door.  The  poor  fellow 
was  fast  asleep.  His  features  had  already  become  colored 
with  fever,  and  a  red  hectic  spot  on  either  cheek  told  that 
the  work  of  mischief  had  begun  ;  yet  still  his  sleep  was 
tranquil,  and  a  half  smile  curled  his  bloodless  lips.  On  his 
bed  his  old  hunting-cap  was  placed,  a  bow  of  white  and 
green  ribbons  —  the  colors  I  wore  —  fastened  gaudily  in 
the  front ;  upon  this,  doubtless,  he  had  been  gazing  to  the 
last  moment  of  his  waking.  I  now  stole  noiselessly  back, 
and  began  a  letter  to  0' Grady,  whose  anxiety  as  to  the 
result  would,  I  knew,  be  considerable. 

It  was  not  without  pride,  I  confess,  that  I  narrated  the 
events  of  the  day ;  yet  when  I  came  to  that  part  of  my 
letter  in  which  Joe  was  to  be  mentioned,  I  could  not  avoid 
a  sense  of  shame  in  acknowledging  the  cruel  contrast  be- 
tween my  conduct  and  his  gratitude.  I  did  not  attempt  to 
theorize  upon  what  he  had  done ;  for  I  felt  that  O'Grady's 
better  knowledge  of  his  countrymen  would  teach  him  to 
sound  the  depths  of  a  motive  the  surface  of  which  I  could 
but  skim.  I  told  him  frankly  that  the  more  I  saw  of  Ire- 
land the  less  I  found  I  knew  about  it ;  so  much  of  sterling 
good  seemed  blended  with  unsettled  notions  and  unfixed 


THE   DINNER-PARTY   AT   MOUNT   BROWN.  267 

opinions,  such  warmth  of  heart,  such  frank  cordiality,  with 
such  traits  of  suspicion  and  distrust,  that  T  could  make 
nothing  of  them.  Either,  thought  I,  these  people  are  born 
to  present  the  anomaly  of  all  that  is  most  opposite  and  con- 
tradictory in  human  nature,  or  else  the  fairest  gifts  that 
ever  graced  manhood  have  been  perverted  and  abused  by 
mismanagement  and  misguidance. 

I  had  just  finished  my  letter  when  Bob  Mahon  drove  up, 
his  honest  face  radiant  with  smiles  and  good-humor. 

"Well,  Hinton,"  cried  he,  "the  whole  thing  is  properly 
settled.  The  money  is  paid  over ;  and  if  you  are  writing 
to  O'Grady,  you  may  mention  that  he  can  draw  on  the 
Limerick  bank  at  sight,  if  he  pleases.  There's  time 
enough,  however,  for  all  this ;  so  get  up  beside  me. 
We  've  only  half  an  hour  to  do  our  five  miles,  and  dress 
for  dinner." 

I  took  my  place  beside  the  major,  and  as  we  flew  fast 
through  the  air,  the  cool  breeze  and  his  enlivening  con. 
versation  rallied  and  refreshed  me.  Such  was  our  pace 
that  we  had  ten  minutes  to  spare,  as  we  entered  a  dark 
avenue  of  tall  beech-trees,  and  a  few  seconds  after  arrived 
at  the  door  of  a  large  old-fashioned-looking  manor-house, 
on  the  steps  of  which  stood  Hugh  Dillon  himself,  in  all 
the  plenitude  of  a  white  waistcoat  and  black-silk  tights. 
While  he  hurried  me  to  a  dressing-room,  he  overwhelmed 
me  with  felicitations  on  the  result  of  the  day. 

"  You  '11  think  it  strange,  Mr.  Hinton,"  said  he,  "  that  I 
should  congratulate  you,  knowing  that  Mr.  Burke  is  a  kind 
of  relative  of  mine  ;  but  I  have  heard  so  much  of  your  kind- 
ness to  my  niece,  Louisa,  that  I  cannot  but  rejoice  in  your 
success." 

"I  should  rather,"  said  I,  "for  many  reasons,  had  it  been 
more  legitimately  obtained ;  and,  indeed,  were  I  not  acting 
for  another,  I  doubt  how  far  I  should  feel  justified  in  con- 
sidering myself  a  winner." 

"My  dear  sir,"  interrupted  Dillon,  "the  laws  of  racing 
are  imperative  in  the  matter ;  besides,  had  you  waived  your 
right,  all  who  backed  you  must  have  lost  their  money." 


268  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"For  that  matter,"  said  I,  laughing,  "the  number  of  my 
supporters  was  tolerably  limited." 

"  No  matter  for  that ;  and  even  if  you  had  not  a  single 
bet  upon  you,  Ulick's  conduct  in  the  beginning  deserved 
little  favor  at  your  hands." 

"I  confess,"  said  I,  "that  there  you  have  touched  on  the 
saving  clause  to  my  feeling  of  shame.  Had  Mr.  Burke  con- 
ducted himself  in  a  different  spirit  towards  my  friend  and 
myself,  I  should  feel  sorely  puzzled  this  minute." 

"Quite  right,  quite  right,"  said  Dillon;  "and  now  try  if 
you  can't  make  as  much  haste  with  your  toilette  as  you  did 
over  the  clover-field." 

Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  made  my  appearance  in 
the  drawing-room,  now  crowded  with  company,  the  faces 
of  many  among  whom  I  remembered  having  seen  in  the 
morning.  Mr.  Dillon  was  a  widower ;  but  his  daughters  — 
three  fine,  tall,  handsome-looking  girls  —  did  the  honors. 
While  I  was  making  my  bows  to  them,  Miss  Bellew  came 
forward,  and  with  an  eye  bright  with  pleasure  held  out  her 
hand  towards  me. 

"I  told  you,  Mr.  Hinton,  we  should  meet  in  the  west. 
Have  I  been  as  good  a  prophetess  in  saying  that  you  would 
like  it  ?  " 

"  If  it  afforded  me  but  this  one  minute,"  said  I,  in  a  half 
whisper. 

"  Dinner ! "  said  the  servant,  and  at  the  same  moment 
that  scene  of  pleasant  confusion  ensued  that  preludes  the 
formal  descent  of  a  party  to  the  dining-room. 

The  host  had  gracefully  tucked  a  large  lady  under  his 
arm,  beside  whose  towering  proportions  he  looked  pretty 
much  like  what  architects  call  "  a  lean-to,"  superadded  to  a 
great  building.  He  turned  his  eye  towards  me  "to  go  and 
do  likewise,"  with  a  significant  glance  at  a  heaving  mass  of 
bugles  and  ostrich  feathers  that  sat  panting  on  a  sofa.  I 
parried  the  stroke,  however,  by  drawing  Miss  Bellew's  arm 
within  mine,  while  I  resigned  the  post  of  honor  to  my  little 
friend  the  major. 

The  dinner  passed  off  like  all  other  dinners ;  there  was 


THE   DINNER-PARTY   AT   MOUNT  BROWN.  269 

the  same  routine  of  eating  and  drinking,  and  pretty  much 
the  same  ritual  of  table-talk.  As  a  kind  of  commentary 
on  the  superiority  of  natural  gifts  over  the  affected  and 
imitated  graces  of  society,  I  could  not  help  remarking  that 
those  things  which  figured  on  the  table  of  homely  origin 
were  actually  luxurious,  while  the  exotic  resources  of  the 
cookery  were  in  every  instance  miserable  failures.  Thus 
the  fish  was  excellent,  and  the  mutton  perfect;  while  the 
fricandeau  was  atrocious,  and  the  petits  pat6s  execrable. 

Should  my  taste  be  criticised,  that  with  a  lovely  girl  be- 
side me,  for  whom  I  already  felt  a  strong  attachment,  I 
could  thus  set  myself  to  criticise  the  cuisine,  in  lieu  of  any 
other  more  agreeable  occupation,  let  my  apology  be  that  my 
reflection  was  an  apropos,  called  forth  by  comparing  Louisa 
Bellew  with  her  cousins  the  Dillons.  I  have  said  they 
were  handsome  girls;  they  were  more,  —  they  were  beauti- 
ful. They  had  all  that  fine  pencilling  of  the  eye-brow,  that 
deep,  square  orbit,  so  characteristically  Irish,  and  which 
gives  an  expression  to  the  eye,  whatever  be  its  color,  of  in- 
expressible softness  ;  their  voices  too,  albeit  the  accent  was 
provincial,  were  soft  and  musical,  and  their  manners  quiet 
and  lady-like.  Yet,  somehow,  they  stood  immeasurably 
apart  from  her. 

I  have  already  ventured  on  one  illustration  from  the 
cookery,  may  I  take  another  from  the  cellar  ?  How  often 
in  wines  of  the  same  vintage,  of  even  the  same  cask,  do  we 
find  one  bottle  whose  bouquet  is  more  aromatic,  whose 
flavor  is  richer,  whose  color  is  more  purely  brilliant ! 
There  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  this  should  be  so,  nor  is 
the  secret  appreciable  to  our  senses  ;  however,  the  fact  is 
incontestable.  So  among  women.  You  meet  some  half- 
dozen  in  an  evening  party,  equally  beautiful,  equally  lovely ; 
yet  will  there  be  found  one  among  the  number  towards 
whom,  without  any  assignable  cause,  more  eyes  are  turned 
and  more  looks  bent,  —  around  whose  chair  more  men  are 
found  to  linger,  and  in  whose  slightest  word  some  cunning 
charm  seems  ever  mingled.  Why  is  this  so  ?  I  confess  I 
cannot  tell  you,  but  trust  me  for  the  fact.     If,  however,  it 


270  JACK    HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"will  satisfy  you  that  I  adduce  an  illustration,  —  Louisa 
Bellew  was  one  of  these.  With  all  the  advantages  of  a 
cultivated  mind,  she  possessed  that  fearlessness  that  only 
girls  really  innocent  of  worldly  trickery  and  deceit  ever 
have ;  and  thus,  while  her  conversation  ranged  far  bej^ond 
the  limits  the  cold  ordeal  of  fashion  would  prescribe  to  a 
London  beauty,  the  artless  enthusiasm  of  her  manner 
was  absolutely  captivating. 

In  Dublin,  the  most  marked  feature  about  her  was  an  air 
of  lofty  pride  and  hauteur,  by  which,  in  the  mixed  society 
of  Rooney's  house,  was  she  alone  enabled  to  repel  the 
obtrusive  and  impertinent  attentions  it  was  the  habit  of  the 
place  to  practise.  Surrounded  by  those  who  resorted  there 
for  a  lounge,  it  was  a  matter  of  no  common  difficulty  for 
her,  a  young  and  timid  girl,  to  assert  her  own  position,  and 
exact  the  respect  that  was  her  due.  Here,  however,  in  her 
uncle's  house,  it  was  quite  different.  Relieved  from  all 
performance  of  a  part,  she  was  natural,  graceful,  and  easy ; 
and  her  spirits,  untrammelled  by  the  dread  of  misconstruc- 
tion, took  their  own  free  and  happy  flight  without  fear  and 
without  reproach. 

When  we  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  seated  beside 
her,  I  entered  into  an  explanation  of  all  my  proceedings 
since  my  arrival  in  the  country,  and  had  the  satisfaction  to 
perceive  that  not  only  did  she  approve  of  everything  I  had 
done,  but,  assuming  a  warmer  interest  than  I  could  credit  in 
my  fortunes,  she  counselled  me  respecting  the  future.  Sup- 
posing that  my  success  might  induce  me  to  further  trials  of 
my  horsemanship,  she  cautioned  me  about  being  drawn  into 
any  matches  or  wagers. 

"My  Cousin  Ulick,"  said  she,  "is  one  of  those  who 
rarely  let  a  prey  escape  them.  I  speak  frankly  to  you,  for 
I  know  I  may  do  so  ;  therefore,  I  would  beseech  you  to  take 
care  of  him,  and,  above  all  things,  do  not  come  into  collision 
with  him.  I  have  told  you,  Mr.  Hinton,  that  I  wish  you  to 
know  my  father.  For  this  object,  it  is  essential  you  should 
have  no  misunderstanding  with  my  cousin  ;  for  although 
his  whole  conduct  through  life  has  been  such  as  to  grieve 


THE   DINNER-PARTY   AT   MOUNT  BROWN.  271 

and  afflict  him,  yet  the  feeling  for  his  only  sister's  child  has 
sustained  him  against  all  the  rumors  and  reports  that  have 
reached  him,  and  even  against  his  own  convictions." 

"  You  have,  indeed,"  said  I,  "  suggested  a  strong  reason 
for  keeping  well  with  your  cousin ;  my  heart  is  not  only 
bent  on  being  known  to  your  father,  but,  if  I  dare  hope  it, 
on  being  liked  by  him  also." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  she,  quickly,  blushing  while  she  spoke, 
"I  am  sure  he'll  like  you;  and  I  know  you'll  like  him. 
Our  house,  perhaps  I  should  tell  you,  is  not  a  gay  one  ;  we 
lead  a  secluded  and  retired  life ;  and  this  has  had  its  effect 
upon  my  poor  father,  giving  a  semblance  of  discontent  — 
only  a  semblance,  though  —  to  a  nature  mild,  manly,  and 
benevolent." 

She  paused  an  instant,  and  as  if  fearing  that  she  had  been 
led  away  to  speak  of  things  she  should  not  have  touched 
upon,  added  with  a  more  lively  tone,  — 

"  Still,  we  may  contrive  to  amuse  you.  You  shall  have 
plenty  of  fishing  and  coursing,  the  best  shooting  in  the 
west ;  and,  as  for  scenery,  I  '11  answer  for  it  you  are  not 
disappointed." 

While  we  chatted  thus,  the  time  rolled  on,  and  at  last  the 
clock  on  the  mantlepiece  apprised  us  that  it  was  time  to 
set  out  for  the  ball.  This,  as  it  may  be  believed,  was  any- 
thing but  a  promise  of  pleasure  to  me.  With  Louisa  Bel- 
lew  beside  me,  talking  in  a  tone  of  confidential  intimacy 
she  had  never  ventured  on  before,  I  would  have  given 
worlds  to  have  remained  where  I  was.  However,  the  thing 
was  impossible  ;  "  the  ball !  the  ball !  "  passed  from  lip  to 
lip,  and  already  the  carriages  were  assembled  before  the 
door,  and  cloaks,  hoods,  and  mantles  were  distributed  on 
all  sides. 

Resolving,  at  all  events,  to  secure  Miss  Bellew  as  my 
fellow-traveller,  I  took  her  arm  to  lead  her  downstairs. 

"  Holloa,  Hinton  !  "  cried  the  major,  "  you  're  coming  with 
me,  ain  't  you  ?  " 

I  got  up  a  tremendous  fit  of  coughing,  as  I  stammered 
out  an  apology  about  night-air,  etc. 


272  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

«  Ah,  true,  my  poor  fellow,"  said  the  simple-hearted  Bob ; 
"  you  must  take  care  of  yourself ;  this  has  been  a  severe 
day's  work  for  you." 

"  With  such  a  heavy  cold,"  said  Louisa,  laughing,  as  her 
bright  eyes  sparkled  with  fun,  "  perhaps  you  '11  take  a  seat 
in  our  carriage." 

I  pressed  her  arm  gently,  and  whispering  my  assent,  as- 
sisted her  in,  and  placed  myself  beside  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    RACE   BALL. 

Fast  as  had  been  the  pace  in  the  major's  tax-cart,  it 
seemed  to  me  as  though  the  miles  flew  much  more  quickly 
by  as  I  returned  to  the  town.  How  indeed  they  passed,  I 
cannot  well  say ;  but  from  the  instant  that  I  quitted  Mr. 
Dillon's  house  to  that  of  my  arrival  in  Loughrea,  there 
seemed  to  be  but  one  brief,  delightful  moment.  I  have 
already  said  that  Miss  Bellew's  manner  was  quite  changed ; 
and,  as  I  assisted  her  from  the  carriage,  I  could  not  but 
mark  the  flashing  brilliancy  of  her  eye  and  the  sparkling 
animation  of  her  features,  lending,  as  they  did,  an  added 
loveliness  to  her  beauty. 

"  Am  I  to  dance  with  you,  Mr.  Hinton  ?  "  said  she,  laugh- 
ingly, as  I  led  her  up  the  stairs.  "  If  so,  pray,  be  civil 
enough  to  ask  me  at  once  ;  otherwise,  I  must  accept  the 
first  partner  that  offers  himself." 

"  How  very  stupid  I  have  been  !  Will  you,  pray,  let  me 
have  the  honor  ?  " 

•'  Yes,  yes,  you  shall  have  the  honor ;  but,  now  that  I 
think  of  it,  you  must  n't  ask  me  a  second  time.  We  country 
folk  are  very  prudish  about  these  things  ;  and  as  you  are 
the  lion  of  the  party,  I  should  get  into  a  sad  scrape  were 
I  to  appear  to  monopolize  you." 

"  But  you  surely  will  have  compassion  on  me,"  said  I,  in 
a  tone  of  affected  bashfulness.  "  You  know  I  am  a  stranger 
here,  —  neither  known  to  nor  by  any  one  save  you." 

"Ah,  treve  de  modestie!"  said  she,  coquettishly.     "My 
cousins  will  be  quite  delighted ;  and,  indeed,  you  owe  them 
some  amende  already." 
vol.  i.  — 18 


274  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  As  how  ?  "  said  I.     "  What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Rather,  what  have  you  left  undone  ?  I  '11  tell  you. 
You  have  not  come  to  the  ball  in  your  fine  uniform,  with 
your  aiguillette  and  your  showy  feathers,  and  all  the  pride, 
pomp,  and  circumstance  of  your  dignity  as  aide-de-camp. 
Learn,  that  in  the  west  we  love  the  infantry,  dote  on  the 
dragoons,  but  we  adore  the  staff.  Now,  a  child  would  fiud 
it  as  difficult  to  recognize  a  plump  gentleman  without  a  star 
on  his  breast  as  a  king,  as  we  western  ladies  would  to  believe 
in  the  military  features  of  a  person  habited  in  quiet  black. 
You  should,  at  least,  have  some  symbol  of  your  calling.  A 
little  bit  of  mustache  like  a  Frenchman,  a  foreign  order  at 
your  button-hole,  your  arm  in  a  sling  (from  a  wound  as  it 
were),  even  a  pair  of  brass  spurs  would  redeem  you.  Poor 
Mary,  here,  won't  believe  that  you  wear  a  great  sword, 
and  are  the  most  warlike-looking  person  imaginable  on 
occasions." 

"  Dearest  Louisa,  how  silly  you  are ! "  said  her  cousin, 
blushing  deeply.  "  Pray,  Mr.  Hinton,  what  do  you  think 
of  the  rooms  ?  " 

This  question  happily  recalled  me  to  myself,  for  up  to 
that  very  moment,  forgetful  of  everything  save  my  fair 
companion,  I  had  not  noticed  our  entrance  into  the  ball- 
room, around  which  we  were  promenading  with  slow  steps. 
I  now  looked  up,  and  discovered  that  we  were  in  the  town 
hall,  the  great  room  of  which  building  was  generally  re- 
served for  occasions  like  the  present.  Nothing  could  be 
more  simple  than  the  decorations  of  the  apartment.  The 
walls,  which  were  white-washed,  were  tastefully  ornamented 
with  strings  and  wreaths  of  flowers  suspended  between  the 
iron  chandeliers  ;  while  over  the  chimney-piece  were  dis- 
played the  colors  of  the  marching  regiment  then  quartered 
in  the  town.  Indeed,  to  do  them  justice,  the  garrison  were 
the  main  contributors  to  the  pleasures  of  the  evening.  By 
them  were  the  garlands  so  gracefully  disposed  ;  by  them 
were  the  rat-holes  and  other  dangerous  crevices  in  the  floor 
calked  with  oakum  ;  their  band  was  now  blowing  "  God 
Save  the  King  "  and  "  Rule  Britannia  "  alternately  for  the 


THE   RACE   BALL. 


275 


last  hour ;  and  their  officers,  in  all  the  splendor  of  scarlet, 
were  parading  the  room,  breaking  the  men's  hearts  with 
envy  and  the  women's  with  admiration. 

O'Grady  was  quite  right,  —  it  is  worth  while  being  a  sol- 
dier in  Ireland  ;  and  if  such  be  the  case  in  the  capital,  how 
much  more  true  is  it  in  Connaught !  Would  that  some 
minute  anatomist  of  human  feeling  could  demonstrate  that 
delicate  fibre  in  an  Irish-woman's  heart  that  vibrates  so  re- 
sponsively  to  everything  in  the  army-list !  In  this  happy 
land  you  need  no  nitrous  oxyde  to  promote  the  high  spirits 
of  your  party ;  I  had  rather  have  a  sub  in  a  marching  regi- 
ment than  a  whole  gasometer  full  of  it.  How  often  have  I 
watched  the  sleepy  eye  of  languid  loveliness  brighten  up, 
how  often  have  I  seen  features  almost  plain  in  their  charac- 
ter assume  a  kind  of  beauty,  as  some  red-coat  drew  near ! 
Don't  tell  me  of  your  insurrection  acts,  of  your  nightly  out- 
rages, your  outbreaks,  and  your  burnings,  as  a  reason  for 
keeping  a  large  military  force  in  Ireland,  —  nothing  of  the 
kind.  A  very  different  object,  indeed,  is  the  reason :  Ire- 
land is  garrisoned  to  please  the  ladies.  The  war-office  is 
the  most  gallant  of  public  bodies ;  and  with  a  true  appre- 
ciation of  the  daughters  of  the  west,  it  inundates  the  land 
with  red-coats. 

These  observations  were  forced  upon  me  as  I  looked 
about  the  room,  and  saw  on  every  side  how  completely  the 
gallant  Seventy-something  had  cut  out  the  country  gentry. 
Poor  fellows  !  you  are  great  people  at  the  assizes ;  you  are 
strong  men  at  a  road-sessions;  but  you're  mighty  small 
folk  indeed  before  your  wives  and  daughters  when  looked 
at  to  the  music  of  "  Paddy  Carey,"  and  by  the  light  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  mutton-candles. 

The  country-dance  was  at  length  formed;  and  poor  Mr. 
Harkin,  the  master  of  the  ceremonies  and  Coryphoeus-in- 
ordinary  of  Loughrea,  had,  by  dint  of  scarce  less  fatigue 
than  I  experienced  in  my  steeple-ehase,  by  running  hither 
and  thither,  imploring,  beseeching,  wheedling,  coaxing,  and 
even  cursing,  at  length  succeeded  in  assembling  sixty-four 
souls  in  a  double  file  upon  the  floor.     Poor  fellow !  never 


276 


JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


was  there  a  more  disorderly  force.  Nobody  would  keep  his 
own  place,  but  was  always  trying  to  get  above  his  neigh- 
bor. In  vain  did  he  tell  the  men  to  stand  at  their  own 
side ;  alas !  they  thought  that  side  their  own  where  the 
ladies  were  also.     Then  the  band  added  to  his  miseries  j 


*  ill." 


for  scarcely  had  he  told  them  to  play  "The  Wind  that 
shakes  the  Barley,"  when  some  changed  it  to  "  The  Priest 
in  his  Boots,"  and  afterwards  to  "The  Dead  March  in 
Saul."  These  were  heavy  afflictions  ;  for  be  it  known  that 
he  could  not  give  way,  as  other  men  would  in  such  circum- 
stances, to  a  good  outbreak  of  passion, — for  Mr.  Harkin 
was  a  public  functionary,  who,  like  all  other  functionaries, 
had  a  character  to  sustain  before  the  world.     When  kings 


THE   RACE   BALL.  277 

are  angry,  we  are  told  by  Shakspeare,  Schiller,  and  others 
that  they  rant  it  in  good  royal  style.  Now,  when  a  dancing- 
master  is  excited  by  passion,  he  never  loses  sight  of  the 
unities.  If  he  flies  down  the  floor  to  chide  the  little  fat 
man  thaf  is  talking  so  loud,  he  contrives  to  do  it  with  a 
step,  a  spring,  and  a  hop,  to  the  time  of  one,  two,  three.  Is 
there  a  confusion  in  the  figure,  he  advances  to  rectify  it 
with  a  chasse  rigadoon.  Does  Mr.  Somebody  turn  his  toes 
too  much  out,  or  is  Miss  So-and-so  holding  her  petticoats 
too  high,  he  fugles  the  correction  in  his  own  person, — 
first  imitating  the  deformity  he  would  expose,  and  then 
displaying  the  perfection  he  would  point  to. 

On  the  evening  in  question,  this  gentleman  afforded  me 
by  far  the  most  of  the  amusement  of  the  ball.  Nearly  half 
the  company  had  been  in  time  of  yore  his  pupils,  or  were 
actually  so  at  the  very  moment;  so  that,  independent  of 
his  cares  as  conductor  of  the  festivities,  he  had  also  the 
amour  propre  of  one  who  saw  his  own  triumphs  reflected 
in  the  success  of  his  disciples. 

At  last  the  dances  were  arranged.  A  certain  kind  of 
order  was  established  in  the  party ;  and  Mr.  Harkin,  stand- 
ing in  the  fifth  position,  with  all  his  fingers  expanded,  gave 
three  symbolic  claps  of  his  hand,  and  cried  out,  "  Begin  !  " 
Away  went  the  band  at  once,  and  down  the  middle  I  flew 
with  my  partner,  to  the  measure  of  a  quick  country-dance 
that  no  human  legs  could  keep  time  to.  Two  others  quickly 
followed;  more  succeeding  them  like  wave  after  wave. 
Nothing  was  too  fat,  nothing  too  short,  nothing  too  long,  to 
dance.  There  they  were,  as  ill-paired  as  though  instead  of 
treading  a  merry  measure  they  had  been  linked  in  the  very 
bonds  of  matrimony,  —  old  and  young,  the  dwarf  and  the 
brobdignag,  the  plump  and  the  lean,  each  laughing  at  the 
eccentricities  of  his  neighbor,  and  happily  indifferent  to 
the  mirth  he  himself  afforded.  By-the-bye,  what  a  glorious 
thing  it  would  be  if  we  could  carry  out  this  principle  of 
self-esteem  into  all  our  reciprocity-treaties,  and  while  we 
enjoyed  what  we  derive  from  others,  be  unconscious  of  the 
loss  we  sustained  ourselves ! 


278  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Unlike  our  English  performance,  the  dance  here  was  as 
free-and-easy  a  thing  as  needs  be.  Down  the  middle  you 
went,  holding,  mayhap  squeezing,  your  partner's  hand, 
laughing,  joking,  flirting,  venturing  occasionally  on  many 
a  bolder  flight  than  at  other  times  you  could  have  dared ; 
for  there  was  no  time  for  the  lady  to  be  angry,  as  she 
tripped  along  to  "  The  Hare  in  the  Corn,"  —  and,  besides, 
but  little  wisdom  could  be  expected  from  a  man  while  per- 
forming more  antics  than  Punch  in  a  pantomime.  With  all 
this,  there  was  a  running  fire  of  questions,  replies,  and 
recognitions,  from  every  one  you  passed :  — 

"  That 's  it,  Captain :  push  along  !  begad,  you  're  doing  it 
well ! "  —  "  Don't  forget  to-morrow  !  "  —  "  Hands  round ! "  — 
"  Has  n't  she  a  leg  of  her  own ! "  —  "  Keep  it  up ! "  —  "  This 
way !  —  turn,  Miss  Malone  !  "  —  "  You  '11  come  to  breakfast, 
."  —  "  How  are  ye,  Joe  ?  "  etc. 

Scarcely  was  the  set  concluded  when  Miss  Bellew  was 
engaged  by  another  partner;  while  I,  at  her  suggestion, 
invited  her  cousin  Mary  to  become  mine.  The  ball-room 
was  now  crowded  with  people ;  the  mirth  and  fun  grew 
fast  and  furious.  The  country-dance  occupied  the  whole 
length  of  the  room ;  and  round  the  walls  were  disposed 
tables  for  whist  or  loo,  where  the  elders  amused  themselves 
with  as  much  pleasure,  and  not  less  noise. 

I  fear  that  I  gave  my  fair  partner  but  a  poor  impression 
of  an  aide-de-camp's  gallantry,  —  answering  at  random, 
speaking  vaguely  and  without  coherence,  my  eyes  fixed 
on  Miss  Bellew ;  delighted  when  by  chance  I  could  catch 
a  look  from  her,  and  fretful  and  impatient  when  she  smiled 
at  some  remark  of  her  partner.  In  fact,  love  has  as  many 
stages  as  a  fever;  and  I  was  in  that  acute  period  of  the 
malady  when  the  feeling  of  devotion,  growing  every  mo- 
ment stronger,  is  checkered  by  a  doubt  lest  the  object  of 
your  affections  should  really  be  indifferent  to  you,  thus 
suggesting  all  the  torturing  agonies  of  jealousy  to  your 
distracted  mind.  At  such  times  as  these  a  man  can  scarcely 
be  very  agreeable  even  to  the  girl  he  loves ;  but  he  is  a  con- 
founded bore  to  a  chance  acquaintance.     So,  indeed,  did 


THE   RACE   BALL.  279 

poor  Mary  Dillon  seem  to  think ;  and  as,  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  dance,  I  resigned  her  hand  to  a  lieutenant  somebody, 
with  pink  cheeks,  black  eyebrows,  and  a  most  martial  air, 
I  saw  she- looked  upon  her  escape  as  a  direct  mercy  from 
Providence. 

Just  at  this  moment  Mr.  Dillon,  who  had  only  been  wait- 
ing for  the  propitious  moment  to  pounce  upon  me,  seized 
me  by  the  arm,  and  led  me  down  the  room.  There  was  a 
charming  woman  dying  to  know  me  in  one  corner ;  the  best 
cock-shooting  in  Ireland  wished  to  make  my  acquaintance 
in  another ;  thirty  thousand  pounds,  and  a  nice  little  prop- 
erty in  Leitrim,  was  sighing  for  me  near  the  fire ;  and  three 
old  ladies,  the  gross  bonnets  of  the  land,  had  kept  the 
fourth  place  at  the  whist  table  vacant  for  my  sake,  and 
were  at  length  growing  impatient  at  my  absence. 

Non  sunt  mea  verba,  good  reader.  Such  was  Mr.  Dillon's 
representation  to  me,  as  he  hurried  me  along,  presenting 
me  as  he  went  to  every  one  we  met,  — a  ceremony  in  which 
I  soon  learned  to  perform  my  part  respectably,  by  merely 
repeating  a  formula  I  had  adopted  for  my  guidance  :  "  De- 
lighted to  know  you,  Mr.  Burke,"  or,  "  Charmed  to  make 
your  acquaintance,  Mrs.  French  ;  "  for  as  nine  tenths  of  the 
men  were  called  by  the  one  and  nearly  all  the  ladies  by  the 
other  appellation,  I  seldom  blundered  in  my  addresses. 

The  evening  wore  on,  but  the  vigor  of  the  party  seemed 
unabated.  The  fatigues  of  fashionable  life  seemed  to  be  as 
little  known  in  Ireland  as  its  apathy  and  its  ennui.  Poor, 
benighted  people !  you  appear  to  enjoy  society,  not  as  a 
refuge  for  your  own  weariness,  not  as  an  escape-valve  for 
your  own  vapors,  but  really  as  a  source  of  pleasurable 
emotions,  — an  occasion  for  drawing  closer  the  bonds  of  in- 
timacy, for  being  agreeable  to  your  friends,  and  for  making 
yourselves  happy.  Alas  !  you  have  much  to  learn  in  this 
respect ;  you  know  not  yet  how  p'ref erable  is  the  languid 
look  of  blase  beauty  to  the  brilliant  eye  and  glowing  cheek 
of  happy  girlhood  ;  you  know  not  how  superior  is  the  cut- 
ting sarcasm,  the  whispered  equivoque,  to  the  kind  welcome 
and  the  affectionate  greeting ;  and  while  enjoying  the  pleas- 


280  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ure  of  meeting  your  friends,  you  absolutely  forget  to  be 
critical  upon  their  characters  or  their  costume ! 

What  a  pity  it  is  that  good-nature  is  under-bred,  and 
good  feeling  is  vulgarity  !  for  after  all,  while  I  contrasted 
the  tone  of  everything  around  me  with  the  supercilious 
cant  and  unimpassioned  coldness  of  London  manners,  I 
could  not  but  confess  to  myself  that  the  difference  was 
great  and  the  interval  enormous.  To  which  side  my  own 
heart  inclined  it  needed  not  my  affection  for  Louisa  Bellew 
to  tell  me  ;  yes,  I  had  seen  enough  of  life  to  learn  how  far 
are  the  real  gifts  of  worth  and  excellence  preferable  to  the 
adventitious  polish  of  high  society.  While  these  thoughts 
rushed  through  my  mind,  another  flashed  across  it.  What 
if  my  lady-mother  were  here  !  What  if  my  proud  cousin  ! 
How  would  her  dark  eyes  brighten,  as  some  absurd  or  ludi- 
crous feature  of  the  company  would  suggest  its  mot  of 
malice  or  its  speech  of  sarcasm  !  how  would  their  air,  their 
carriage,  their  deportment  appear  in  her  sight !  I  could 
picture  to  myself  the  cold  scorn  of  her  manner  towards  the 
men,  the  insulting  courtesy  of  her  demeanor  to  the  women ; 
the  affected  naivete  with  which  she  would  question  them  as 
to  their  e very-day  habits  and  habitudes,  their  usages  and 
their  wants,  as  though  she  were  inqvuring  into  the  manners 
and  customs  of  South-Sea  islanders.  I  could  imagine  the 
ineffable  scorn  with  which  she  would  receive  what  were 
meant  to  be  kind  and  polite  attentions ;  and  I  could  fashion 
to  myself  her  look,  her  manner,  and  her  voice,  when,  escap- 
ing, as  she  would  call  it,  from  her  Nuit  parmi  les  sauvages, 
she  would  caricature  every  trait,  every  feature  of  the  party, 
converting  into  food  for  laughter  their  frank  and  hospita- 
ble bearing,  and  making  their  very  warmth  of  heart  the 
groundwork   of   a   sarcasm. 

The  ball  continued  with  unabated  vigor,  and  as,  in  obedi- 
ence to  Miss  Bellew's  request,  I  could  not  again  ask  her  to 
dance,  I  myself  felt  little  inclination  to  seek  for  another 
partner.  The  practice  of  the  place  seemed,  however,  as  im- 
peratively to  exclude  idleness  as  the  discipline  of  a  man-of- 
war.     If  you  were  not  dancing  you  ought  to  be  playing 


THE   RACE  BALL.  281 

cards,  making  love,  drinking  negus,  or  exchanging  good 
stories  with  some  motherly  fat  old  lady,  too  heavy  for  a 
reel,  too  stupid  for  loo.  In  this  dilemma  I  cut  into  a  round 
game,  which  I  remember  often  to  have  seen  at  Rooney's, 
technically  called  "speculation."  A  few  minutes  before, 
and  I  was  fancying  to  myself  what  my  mother  would  think 
of  all  this  ;  and  now,  as  I  drew  my  chair  to  the  table,  I  mut- 
tered a  prayer  to  my  own  heart  that  she  might  never  hear 
of  my  doings.  How  strange  it  is  that  we  would  much  rather 
be  detected  in  some  overt  act  of  vice  than  caught  in  any 
ludicrous  situation  or  absurd  position  !  I  could  look  my 
friends  and  family  steadily  enough  in  the  face  while  stand- 
ing amid  all  the  black-legs  of  Epsom  and  the  swindlers  of 
Ascot,  exchanging  with  them  the  courtesies  of  life,  and 
talking  on  terms  of  easy  and  familiar  intercourse ;  yet 
would  I  rather  have  been  seen  with  the  veriest  pickpocket 
in  fashionable  life  than  seated  amid  that  respectable  and 
irreproachable  party  who  shook  their  sides  with  laughter 
around  the  card-table ! 

Truly,  it  was  a  merry  game  and  well-suited  for  a  novice, 
as  it  required  no  teaching.  Each  person  had  his  three 
cards  dealt  him,  one  of  which  was  displayed  to  the  company 
in  rotation.  Did  this  happen  to  be  a  knave,  or  some  other 
equally  reproachful  character,  the  owner  was  mulcted  to 
the  sum  of  five-pence  ;  and  he  must  indeed  have  had  a 
miser's  heart  who  could  regret  a  penalty  so  provocative  of 
mirth.  Often  as  the  event  took  place,  the  fun  never 
seemed  to  grow  old ;  and  from  the  exuberance  of  the  delight 
and  the  unceasing  flow  of  the  laughter  I  began  to  wonder 
within  myself  if  these  same  cards  had  not  some  secret  and 
symbolic  meaning,  unknown  to  the  neophyte.  But  the 
drollery  did  not  end  here :  you  might  sell  your  luck,  and 
put  up  your  hand  to  auction.  This  led  to  innumerable  droll 
allusions  and  dry  jokes,  and,  in  fact,  if  ever  a  game  was 
contrived  to  make  one's  sides  ache,  this  was  it. 

A  few  sedate  and  sober  people  there  were,  who,  with 
bent  brow  and  pursed-up  lip,  watched  the  whole  proceed- 
ing.    They  were  the  secret  police  of  the  card-table ;  it  was 


282  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUAKDSMAN. 

in  vain  to  attempt  to  conceal  your  luckless  knave  from 
their  prying  eyes  ;  with  the  glance  of  a  tax-collector  they 
pounced  upon  the  defaulter,  and  made  him  pay.  Rarely  or 
never  smiling  themselves,  they  really  felt  all  the  eagerness, 
all  the  excitement  of  gambling ;  and  I  question  if,  after  all, 
their  hard  looks  and  stern  features  were  not  the  best  fun 
of  the  whole. 

After  about  two  hours  had  been  thus  occupied,  during 
which  I  had  won  the  esteem  and  affection  of  several  elderly 
ladies  by  the  equanimity  and  high-mindedness  with  which 
I  bore  up  against  the  loss  of  two  whole  baskets  of  counters, 
amounting  to  the  sum  of  four-and-sixpence,  I  felt  my  shoul- 
der gently  touched,  and  at  the  same  moment  Bob  Mahon 
whispered  in  my  ear,  — 

■  "  The  Dillons  are  going,  and  he  wants  to  speak  a  word 
with  you ;  so  give  me  your  cards,  and  slip  away." 

Resigning  my  place  to  the  major,  whose  advent  was  re- 
ceived with  evident  signs  of  dissatisfaction,  inasmuch  as  he 
was  a  shrewd  player,  I  hurried  through  the  room  to  find 
out  Dillon. 

"Ah,  here  he  is,"  said  Miss  Bellew  to  her  uncle,  while 
she  pointed  to  me.  "  How  provoking  to  go  away  so  early, 
isn't  it,  Mr.  Hinton?" 

"You,  doubtless,  feel  it  so,"  said  I,  with  something  of 
pique  in  my  manner,  —  "  your  evening  has  been  so  agree- 
ably passed." 

"  And  yours,  too,  if  I  am  to  judge  from  the  laughter  of 
your  card-table.  I  am  sure  I  never  heard  so  noisy  a  party. 
Well,  Mary,  does  he  consent  ?  " 

"  No ;  papa  is  still  obstinate,  and  the  carriage  is  ordered. 
He  says  we  shall  have  so  much  gayety  this  week  that  we 
must  go  home  early  to-night." 

"  There,  there !  now  be  good  girls  ;  get  on  your  muffling, 
and  let  us  be  off.  Ah,  Mr.  Hinton,  —  the  very  man  I 
wanted.  Will  you  do  us  the  very  great  favor  of  coming 
over  for  a  few  days  to  Mount  Brown  ?  We  shall  have  the 
partridge-shooting  after  to-morrow,  and  I  think  I  can  show 
you  some  sport.     May  I  send  in  for  you  in  the  morning  ? 


THE   RACE   BALL.  283 

What  hour  will  suit  you  ?  You  will  not  refuse  me,  I 
trust  ?  " 

"I  need  not  say,  my  dear  sir,  how  obliged  I  feel  for,  and 
with  what,  pleasure  I  should  accept,  your  kind  invitation  ; 
but  the  truth  is,  I  've  come  away  without  leave  of  absence. 
The  duke  may  return  any  day,  and  I  shall  be  in  a  sad 
scrape." 

"  Do  you  think  a  few  days  —  " 

A  look  from  Louisa  Bellew,  at  this  moment,  came  most 
powerfully  in  aid  of  her  uncle's  eloquence.  I  hesitated, 
and  looked  uncertain  how  to  answer. 

"There,  girls  !  now  is  your  time!  He  is  half  persuaded 
to  do  a  kind  thing;  do  try  and  convince  him  the  whole 
way.     Come,  Mary  !  Fanny  !  Louisa !  " 

A  second  look  from  Miss  Bellew  decided  the  matter ;  and 
as  a  flush  of  pleasure  colored  my  cheek,  I  shook  Dillon 
warmly  by  the  hand,  and  promised  to  accept  his  invitation. 

"  That  is  like  a  really  good  fellow,"  said  the  little  man, 
with  a  face  sparkling  with  pleasure.  "  Now,  what  say  you 
if  we  drive  over  for  you  about  two  o'clock  ?  The  girls 
are  coming  in  to  make  some  purchases,  and  we  shall  all 
drive  out  together." 

This  arrangement,  so  very  palatable  to  me,  was  agreed 
upon,  and  I  now  took  Miss  Bellew's  arm  to  lead  her  to  the 
carriage.  On  descending  to  the  hall  a  delay  of  a  few 
minutes  ensued,  as  the  number  of  vehicles  prevented  the 
carriage  coming  up.  The  weather  appeared  to  have 
changed;  it  was  now  raining  heavily,  and  blowing  a  per- 
fect storm. 

As  the  fitful  gusts  of  wind  howled  along  the  dark  corri- 
dors of  the  old  building,  dashing  the  rain  upon  our  faces 
even  where  we  stood,  I  drew  my  fair  companion  closer  to 
my  side,  and  held  her  cloak  more  firmly  round  her.  What 
a  moment  was  that !  Her  arm  rested  on  mine  ;  her  very 
tresses  were  blown  each  moment  across  my  cheek.  I  know 
not  what  I  said,  but  I  felt  that  in  the  tones  of  my  voice 
they  were  the  utterings  of  my  heart  that  fell  from  my  lips. 


284  JACK  HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

I  had  not  remembered  that  Mr.  Dillon  had  already  placed 
his  daughters  in  the  carriage,  and  was  calling  to  us  loudly 
to  follow. 

"No,  no!  I  pray  you  not,"  said  Louisa,  in  reply  to  I 
know  not  what.     "  Don't  you  hear  my  uncle  ? " 

In  her  anxiety  to  press  forward  she  had  slightly  dis- 
engaged her  arm  from  mine  as  she  spoke.  At  this  instant 
a  man  rushed  forward,  and  catching  her  hand,  drew  it 
rudely  within  his  arm,  calling  out  as  he  did  so,  — 

"  Never  fear,  Louisa !  you  shall  not  be  insulted  while 
your  cousin  is  here  to  protect  you." 

She  sprang  round  to  reply :  "  You  are  mistaken,  Ulick  ! 
It  is  Mr.  Hinton  !  "  She  could  say  no  more  ;  for  he  lifted 
her  into  the  carriage,  and,  closing  the  door  with  a  loud  bang, 
desired  the  coachman  to  drive  on. 

Stupefied  with  amazement,  I  stood  still  and  motionless. 
My  first  impulse  was  to  strike  him  to  the  ground ;  for  al- 
though a  younger  and  a  weaker  man,  I  felt  within  me  at 
the  moment  the  strength  to  do  it.  My  next  thought  was 
of  Louisa's  warning  not  to  quarrel  with  her  cousin.  The 
struggle  was  indeed  a  severe  one,  but  I  gained  the  victory 
over  my  passion.  Unable,  however,  to  quit  the  spot,  I 
stood  with  my  arms  folded,  and  my  eyes  riveted  upon  him. 
He  returned  my  stare,  and  with  a  sneer  of  insufferable  in- 
solence passed  me  by  and  walked  upstairs.  Xot  a  word  was 
spoken  on  either  side ;  but  there  are  moments  in  one's  life 
in  which  a  look  or  passing  glance  rivets  an  undying  hate. 
Such  a  one  did  we  exchange,  and  nothing  that  the  tongue 
could  speak  could  compass  that  secret  instinct  by  which  we 
ratified  our  enmity. 

With  slow,  uncertain  steps  I  mounted  the  stairs.  Some 
strange  fascination  led  me,  as  it  were,  to  dog  his  steps ;  and 
although  in  my  heart  I  prayed  that  no  collision  should  ever 
come  between  us,  yet  I  could  not  resist  the  headlong  im- 
pulse to  follow  and  to  watch  him.  Like  that  unexplained 
temptation  which  leads  the  gazer  over  some  lofty  precipice 
to  move  on  step  by  step  yet  nearer  to  the  brink,  conscious 


THE   RACE   BALL.  285 

of  his  danger  yet  unable  to  recede,  so  did  I  track  this  man 
from  place  to  place,  following  him  as  he  passed  from  one 
group  to  the  other  of  his  friends,  till  at  length  he  seated 
himself  at.a  table,  around  which  a  number  of  persons  were 
engaged  in  noisy  and  boisterous  conversation.  He  filled  a 
tumbler  to  the  brim  with  wine,  and  drinking  it  off  at  a 
draught,  refilled  again. 

"  You  are  thirsty,  Ulick,"  said  some  one. 

"Thirsty!     On  fire,  by  G !     You'll  not  believe  me 

when  I  tell  you  —  I  can't  do  it ;  no,  by  Heaven  !  there  is 
nothing  in  the  way  of  provocation  —  " 

As  he  said  thus  much,  some  lady  passing  near  induced 
him  to  drop  his  voice,  and  the  remainder  of  the  sentence 
was  inaudible  to  me.  Hitherto  I  had  been  standing  beside 
his  chair ;  I  now  moved  round  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table,  and,  with  my  arms  folded  and  my  eyes  firmly  fixed, 
stood  straight  before  him.  For  an  instant  or  two  he  did 
not  remark  me,  as  he  continued  to  speak  with  his  head  bent 
downwards.  Suddenly  lifting  up  his  eyes,  he  started,  pushed 
his  chair  slightly  back  from  the  table,  — 

"  And,  look  !  see  !  "  cried  he,  as  with  outstretched  finger 
he  pointed  towards  me,  —  "  see  !  if  he  is  n't  there  again  !  " 

Then  suddenly  changing  the  tone  of  his  voice  to  one  of 
affected  softness,  he  continued,  addressing  me,  — 

"  I  have  been  explaining,  sir,  as  well  as  my  poor  powers 
will  permit,  the  excessive  pains  I  have  taken  to  persuade 
you  to  prove  yourself  a  gentleman.  One  half  the  trouble 
you  have  put  me  to  would  have  told  an  Irish  gentleman 
what  was  looked  for  at  his  hands  ;  you  appear,  however,  to 
be  the  best-tempered  fellows  in  the  world  at  your  side  of 
the  Channel.  Come,  now,  boys!  if  any  man  likes  a  bet,  I  '11 
wager  ten  guineas  that  even  this  won't  ruffle  his  amiable 
nature.  Pass  the  sherry  here,  Godfrey !  Is  that  a  clean 
glass  beside  you  ?  " 

So  saying,  he  took  the  decanter,  and  leisurely  filling  the 
glass  stood  up  as  if  to  present  it,  but  when  he  attained  the 
erect  position  he  looked  at  me  fixedly  for  a  second,  and 


286  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

then  dashed  the  wine  in  my  face.  A  roar  of  laughter  burst 
around  rae,  but  I  saw  and  heard  no  more.  The  moment  be- 
fore, and  my  head  was  cool,  my  senses  clear,  my  faculties 
unclouded ;  but  now,  as  if  derangement  had  fallen  upon  me, 
I  could  see  nothing  but  looks  of  mockery  and  scorn,  and 
hear  nothing  save  the  discordant  laugh  and  the  jarring 
accent  of  derision. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


THE    INN    FIRE. 


How  I  escaped  from  that  room,  and  by  what  means  I 
found  myself  in  the  street,  I  know  not.  My  first  impulse 
was  to  tear  off  my  cravat,  that  I  might  breathe  more  freely; 
still  a  sense  of  suffocation  oppressed  me,  and  I  felt  stunned 
and  stupefied. 

"  Come  along,  Hinton  !  rouse  yourself,  my  boy  !  See, 
your  coat  is  drenched  with  rain,"  said  a  friendly  voice  be- 
hind me ;  while  grasping  me  forcibly  by  the  arm,  the  major 
led  me  forward. 

"What  have  I  done?"  cried  I,  struggling  to  get  free. 
"  Tell  me  —  oh,  tell  me,  have  I  done  wrong  ?  Have  I  com- 
mitted any  dreadful  thing  ?  There  is  an  aching  pain  here  — 
here  in  my  forehead,  as  though  —  I  dare  not  speak  my 
shame  !  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  my  boy,"  said  Mahon ;  "  you  've 
conducted  yourself  admirably.  Matt  Keane  saw  it  all,  and 
he  says  he  never  witnessed  anything  finer, — and  he's  no 
bad  judge,  let  me  tell  you.  So,  there  now,  be  satisfied,  and 
take  off  your  wet  clothes." 

There  was  something  imperative  in  the  tone  in  which  he 
spoke  ;  besides,  the  major  was  one  of  those  people  who 
somehow  or  other  always  contrive  to  have  their  own  way 
in  the  world ;  so  that  I  yielded  at  once,  feeling  too  that  any 
opposition  would  only  defer  my  chance  of  an  explanation. 

While  I  was  thus  occupied  in  my  inner  room,  I  could 
overhear  my  friend  without,  engaged  in  the  preparation  of 
a  little  supper,  mingling  an  occasional  soliloquy  with  the 
simmering  of  the  grilled  bone  that  browned  upon  the  fire,  — 
the  clink  of  glasses  and  plates,  and  all  the  evidences  of 


288  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

punch-making,  breaking  every  now  and  then  amid  such  re- 
flections as  these  :  — 

"  A  mighty  ugly  business !  nothing  for  it  but  meeting 
him.  Poor  lad !  they  '11  say  we  murdered  him  among  us  ! 
Och,  he 's  far  too  young  for  Galway.  —  Holloa,  Hinton,  are 
you  ready  ?  Now  you  look  something  reasonable ;  and 
when  we  've  eaten  a  bit,  we  '11  talk  this  matter  over  coolly 
and  sensibly.  And  to  make  your  mind  easy,  I  may  tell 
you  at  once  I  have  arranged  a  meeting  for  you  with  Burke 
at  five  to-morrow  morning." 

I  grasped  his  hand  convulsively  within  mine,  as  a  gleam 
of  savage  satisfaction  shot  through  me. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  he,  as  if  replying  to  my  look,  —  "  it 's 
all  as  it  ought  to  be.  Even  his  own  friends  are  indignant 
at  his  conduct ;  and  indeed  I  may  say  it 's  the  first  time  a 
stranger  has  met  with  such  in  our  country." 

"I  can  well  believe  it,  Major,"  said  I;  "for  unless  from 
the  individual  in  question,  I  have  met  with  nothing  but 
kindness  and  good  feeling  amongst  you.  He  indeed  would 
seem  an  exception  to  his  countrymen." 

"  Therefore  the  sooner  you  shoot  him  the  better.  But  I 
wish  I  could  see  Father  Tom." 

"  Adest,  domine,"  cried  the  priest  at  the  same  moment,  as 
he  entered  the  room,  throwing  his  wet  great-coat  into  a  cor- 
ner and  giving  himself  a  shake  a  Newfoundland  dog  might 
have  envied.  "  Is  n't  this  pretty  work,  Bob  ?  "  said  he,  turn- 
ing to  his  cousin  with  a  look  of  indignant  reproach :  "  he  is 
not  twenty-four  hours  in  the  town,  and  you  've  got  him  into 
a  fight  already !  And  sure  it 's  my  own  fault  that  ever 
brought  you  together.  Nee  fortunam  nee  gratiam  habes,  — 
no,  indeed,  you  have  neither  luck  nor  grace.  Mauvaise 
tete,  as  the  French  say,  —  always  in  trouble.  Arrah,  don't 
be  talking  to  me  at  all,  at  all ;  reach  me  over  the  spirits. 
Sorra  better  I  ever  saw  you !  —  disturbing  me  out  of  my 
virtuous  dreams  at  two  in  the  morning.  True  enough,  die 
mihi  societatem  tuam  ;  but  little  I  thought  he  'd  be  getting 
you  shot  before  you  left  the  place." 

I  endeavored  to  pacify  the  good  priest  as  well  as  I  was 


THE   INN   FIRE.  289 

able ;  the  major  too  made  every  explanation  ;  but  what  be- 
tween his  being  called  out  of  bed,  his  anger  at  getting  wet, 
and  his  cousin's  well-known  character  for  affairs  of  this 
nature,  it,  was  not  before  he  had  swallowed  his  second 
tumbler  of  punch  that  he  would  "listen  to  rayson." 

"  Well,  well,  if  it  is  so,  God's  will  be  done ! "  said  he 
with  a  sigh.  "  Un  bon  coup  d'epee,  as  we  used  to  say  for- 
merly, is  beautiful  treatment  for  bad  blood.  But  maybe 
you  're  going  to  fight  with  pistols  ?  Oh,  murther,  them 's 
dreadful  things  ! " 

"I  begin  to  suspect,"  said  the  major,  slyly,  "that  Father 
Tom  's  afraid  if  you  shoot  Ulick  he  '11  never  get  that  fifty 
pounds  he  won.     Hinc  illce  lacrymcB,  —  eh,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Ah,  the  spalpeen ! "  said  the  priest,  with  a  deep  groan, 
"  did  n't  he  do  me  out  of  that  money  already  ?  " 

"How  so,  Father?"  said  I,  scarce  able  to  repress  my 
laughter  at  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"  I  was  coming  down  the  main  street  yesterday  evening, 
with  Doctor  Plunkett  the  bishop  beside  me,  discoursing  a 
little  theology,  and  looking  as  pious  and  respectable  as  may 
be,  when  that  villain  Burke  came  running  out  of  a  shop, 
and  pulling  out  his  pocket-book,  cried,  — 

"  '  Wait  a  bit,  Father  Tom !  you  know  I  'm  a  little  in  your 
debt  about  that  race ;  and  as  you  're  a  sporting  character, 
it's  only  fair  to  book  up  at  once.' 

"  i  What  is  this  I  hear,  Father  Loftus  ?  '  says  the  bishop. 

"  '  Oh,  my  lord,"  says  I,  '  he 's  a  jocosus  puer,  a  humbug- 
ging bla-guard  ;  a  farceur,  your  Reverence,  and  that 's  the 
way  he  is  always  cutting  his  jokes  upon  the  people.' 

" '  And  so  he  does  not  owe  you  this  money  ? '  said  the 
bishop,  looking  mighty  hard  at  us  both. 

"  '  Not  a  farthing  of  it,  my  lord.' 

"  '  That 's  comfortable,  any  how,'  says  Burke,  putting  up 
his  pocket-book ;  <  and  faith,  my  lord,'  said  he  with  a  wink, 
'  I  wish  I  had  a  loan  of  you  for  an  hour  or  two  every  set- 
tling day,  for  troth  you  're  a  trump ! '  And  with  that  he 
went  off  laughing  'till  ye 'd  have  thought  he'd  split  his 
sides, —  and  I  am  sure  I  wish  he  had." 

VOL.  i.  — 19 


290  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

I  don't  think  Mr.  Burke  himself  could  have  laughed 
louder  or  longer  at  his  scheme  than  did  we  in  hearing  it. 
The  priest  at  length  joined  in  the  mirth,  and  I  could  per- 
ceive, as  the  punch  made  more  inroads  upon  him  and  the 
evening  wore  on,  that  his  holy  horror  of  duelling  was 
gradually  melting  away  before  the  warmth  of  his  Hibernian 
propensities.  Like  a  wet  sponge  passed  across  the  surface 
of  a  dark  picture,  bringing  forth  from  the  gloom  many  a 
figure  and  feature  indistinct  before,  and  displaying  touches 
of  light  not  hitherto  appreciable,  so  whiskey  seems  to  ex- 
ercise some  strange  power  of  displaying  its  votaries  in  all 
their  breadth  of  character,  divesting  them  of  the  adventi- 
tious clothes  in  which  position  or  profession  has  invested 
them.  Thus  a  tipsy  Irishman  stands  forth  in  the  exuber- 
ance of  his  nationality,  Hibernicis  Hibernior.  Forgetting 
all  his  moral  declamation  on  duelling,  oblivious  of  his  late 
indignation  against  his  cousin,  he  rubbed  his  hands  pleas- 
antly, and  related  story  after  story  of  his  own  early  ex- 
periences, some  of  them  not  a  little  amusing. 

The  major,  however,  seemed  not  fully  to  enjoy  the  priest's 
anecdotical  powers,  but  sipped  his  glass  with  a  grave  and 
sententious  air.  "  Very  true,  Tom,"  said  he  at  length, 
breaking  silence ;  "  you  have  seen  a  fair  share  of  these 
things  for  a  man  of  your  cloth.  But  where 's  the  man  liv- 
ing—  show  him  to  me,  I  say — that  has  had  my  experience, 
either  as  principal  or  second  ?  Have  n't  I  had  my  four 
men  out  in  the  same  morning  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  confess,"  said  I,  meekly,  "  that  does  seem  an 
extravagant  allowance." 

"  Clear  waste,  downright  profusion,  du  luxe,  mon  cher, 
nothing  else,"  observed  Father  Tom. 

Meanwhile,  the  major  rolled  his  eyes  fearfully  at  me,  and 
fidgeted  in  his  chair  with  impatience  to  be  asked  for  his 
story ;  and  as  I  myself  had  some  curiosity  on  the  subject,  I 
begged  him  to  relate  it. 

•  "  Tom,  here,  does  n't  like  a  story  at  supper,"  said  the 
major,  pompously;  for,  perceiving  our  attitude  of  attention, 
he  resolved  on  being  a  little  tyrannical  before  telling  it. 


THE   INN   FIRE.  291 

The  priest  made  immediate  submission ;  and  slyly  hint- 
ing that  his  objection  only  lay  against  stories  he  had  been 
hearing  for  the  last  thirty  years,  said  he  could  listen  to  the 
narration  in  question  with  much  pleasure. 

"  You  shall  have  it,  then,"  said  the  major,  as  he  squared 
himself  in  his  chair,  and  thus  began  :  — 

"You  have  never  been  in  Castle  Concel,  Hinton?  Well, 
there  is  a  wide  bleak  line  of  country  there  that  stretches 
away  to  the  westward,  with  nothing  but  large  round-backed 
mountains,  low  boggy  swamps,  with  here  and  there  a  mis- 
erable mud-hovel,  surrounded  by,  maybe,  half  an  acre  of 
lumpers,  or  bad  oats  ;  a  few  small  streams  struggle  through 
this  on  their  way  to  the  Shannon,  but  they  are  brown  and 
dirty  as  the  soil  they  traverse  ;  and  the  very  fish  that  swim 
in  them  are  brown  and  smutty  also. 

"  In  the  very  heart  of  this  wild  country  I  took  it  into  my 
head  to  build  a  house.  A  strange  notion  it  was,  for  there 
was  no  neighborhood  and  no  sporting ;  but,  somehow,  I  had 
taken  a  dislike  to  mixed  society  sometime  before  that,  and 
I  found  it  convenient  to  live  somewhat  in  retirement ;  so 
that  if  the  partridges  were  not  in  abundance  about  me, 
neither  were  the  process-servers,  —  and  the  truth  was,  I 
kept  a  much  sharper  look-out  for  the  sub-sheriff  than  I  did 
for  the  snipe. 

"  Of  course,  as  I  was  over  head-and-ears  in  debt,  my  no- 
tion was  to  build  something  very  considerable  and  impos- 
ing ;  and,  to  be  sure,  I  had  a  fine  portico,  and  a  flight  of 
steps  leading  up  to  it;  and  there  were  ten  windows  in  front, 
and  a  grand  balustrade  at  the  top  ;  and,  faith,  taking  it  all 
in  all,  the  building  was  so  strong,  the  walls  so  thick,  the 
windows  so  narrow,  and  the  stones  so  black,  that  my  cousin, 
Darcy  Mahon,  called  it  Newgate,  —  and  not  a  bad  name 
either,  and  the  devil  another  it  ever  went  by.  And  even 
that  same  had  its  advantages  ;  for  when  the  creditors  used 
to  read  that  at  the  top  of  my  letters,  they'd  say,  'Poor 
devil !  he  has  enough  on  his  hands  ;  there 's  no  use  troubling 
him  any  more.'  Well,  big  as  Newgate  looked  from  Avithout, 
it  had  not  much  accommodation  when  you  got  inside.    There 


292  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

was,  't  is  true,  a  fine  hall,  all  flagged ;  and  out  of  it  you  en- 
tered what  ought  to  have  been  the  dinner-room,  thirty -eight 
feet  by  seven-and-twenty,  but  which  was  used  for  herding 
sheep  in  winter.  On  the  right  hand  there  was  a  cosey  little 
breakfast-room,  just  about  the  size  of  this  we  are  in.  At 
the  back  of  the  hall,  but  concealed  by  a  pair  of  folding- 
doors,  there  was  a  grand  staircase  of  old  Irish  oak,  that 
ought  to  have  led  up  to  a  great  suite  of  bed-rooms,  but  it 
only  conducted  to  one,  — a  little  crib  I  had  for  myself.  The 
remainder  were  never  plastered  nor  floored  ;  and,  indeed,  in 
one  of  them,  that  was  over  the  big  drawing-room,  the  joists 
were  never  laid,  —  which  was  all  the  better,  for  it  was  there 
we  used  to  keep  our  hay  and  straw.  Now,  at  the  time  I 
mention,  the  harvest  was  not  brought  in,  and  instead  of 
its  being  full,  as  it  used  to  be,  it  was  mighty  low ;  so  that 
when  you  opened  the  door  above  stairs,  instead  of  finding 
the  hay  up  beside  you,  it  was  about  fourteen  feet  down 
beneath  you. 

"  I  can't  help  boring  you  with  all  these  details,  —  first, 
because  they  are  essential  to  my  story ;  and  next,  because, 
being  a  young  man  and  a  foreigner  to  boot,  it  may  lead  you 
to  a  little  better  understanding  of  some  of  our  national  cus- 
toms. Of  all  the  partialities  we  Irish  have,  after  lush  and 
the  ladies,  I  believe  our  ruling  passion  is  to  build  a  big 
house,  spend  every  shilling  we  have,  or  that  we  have  not, 
as  the  case  may  be,  in  getting  it  half  finished,  and  then  live 
in  a  corner  of  it,  'just  for  grandeur,'  as  a  body  majr  say. 
It 's  a  droll  notion,  after  all ;  but  show  me  the  county 
in  Ireland  that  has  n't  at  least  six  specimens  of  what 
I  mention. 

"Newgate  was  a  beautiful  one  ;  and  although  the  sheep 
lived  in  the  parlor  and  the  cows  were  kept  in  the  blue 
drawing-room,  Darby  Whaley  slept  in  the  boudoir,  and  two 
bull-dogs  and  a  buck-goat  kept  house  in  the  library,  faith, 
upon  the  outside  it  looked  very  imposing ;  and  not  one  that 
saw  it  from  the  high-road  to  Ennis  —  and  you  could  see  it 
for  twelve  miles  in  every  direction  —  did  n't  say,  '  That 
Mahon  must  be  a  snug  fellow :  look  what  a  beautiful  place 


THE   INN  FIRE.  293 

he  has  of  it  there  ! '  Little  they  knew  that  it  was  safer  to 
go  up  the  '  Reeks  '  than  my  grand  staircase,  and  it  was  like 
rope-dancing  to  pass  from  one  room  to  the  other. 

"Well,  it  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  a 
dark  lowering  day  in  December  that  I  was  treading  home- 
wards in  no  very  good  humor ;  for  except  a  brace  and  a  half 
of  snipe,  and  a  gray  plover,  I  had  met  with  nothing  the 
whole  day.  The  night  was  falling  fast ;  so  I  began  to 
hurry  on  as  quickly  as  I  could,  when  I  heard  a  loud  shout 
behind  me,  and  a  voice  called  out,  — 

"  '  It 's  Bob  Mahon,  boys  !  By  the  hill  of  Scariff,  we  are 
in  luck ! ' 

"I  turned  about,  and  what  should  I  see  but  a  parcel  of 
fellows  in  red  coats:  they  were  the  Blazers.  There  was 
Dan  Lambert,  Tom  Burke,  Harry  Eyre,  Joe  M'Mahon,  and 
the  rest  of  them,  —  fourteen  souls  in  all.  They  had  come 
down  to  draw  a  cover  of  Stephen  Blake's  about  ten  miles 
from  me ;  but  in  the  strange  mountain  country  they  lost 
the  dogs,  they  lost  their  way  and  their  temper ;  in  truth, 
to  all  appearance,  they  lost  everything  but  their  appetites. 
Their  horses  were  dead  beat  too,  and  they  looked  as  miser- 
able a  crew  as  ever  you  set  eyes  on. 

"'Isn't  it  lucky,  Bob,  that  we  found  you  at  home?'  said 
Lambert. 

" '  They  told  us  you  were  away,'  says  Burke. 

"'Some  said  that  you  were  grown  so  pious  that  you 
never  went  out  except  on  Sundays,'  added  old  Harry,  with 
a  grin. 

" '  Begad,'  said  I,  '  as  to  the  luck,  I  won't  say  much  for 
it ;  for  here  's  all  I  can  give  you  for  your  dinner ; '  and  so 
I  pulled  out  the  four  birds  and  shook  them  at  them  ;  '  and 
as  to  the  piety,  troth,  maybe  you  'd  like  to  keep  a  fast  with 
as  devoted  a  son  of  the  Church  as  myself.' 

"  'But  is  n't  that  Newgate  up  there  ? '  said  one. 

"'That  same.' 

" '  And  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  such  a  house  as  that 
has  n't  a  good  larder  and  a  fine  cellar  ? ' 

" '  You  're  right,'  said  I ;  '  and  they  're  both  full  at  this 


294  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

very  moment,  —  the  one  with  seed-potatoes,  and  the  other 
with  Whitehaven  coals.' 

" '  Have  you  got  any  bacon  ? '  said  M'Mahon.- 

" '  Oh,  yes  ! '  said  I,  '  there  's  bacon.' 

" '  And  eggs  ? '  said  another. 

"  'For  the  matter  of  that,  you  might  swim  in  batter.' 

"'Come,  come,'  said  Dan  Lambert,  'we're  not  so  badly 
off,  after  all.' 

" '  Is  there  whiskey  ? '  cried  Eyre. 

" '  Sixty-three  gallons,  that  never  paid  the  king  sixpence ! ' 

"  As  I  said  this,  they  gave  three  cheers  you  'd  have  heard 
a  mile  off. 

"  After  about  twenty  minutes'  walking,  we  got  up  to  the 
house,  and  when  poor  Darby  opened  the  door  I  thought 
he  'd  faint ;  for,  you  see,  the  red-coats  made  him  think  it 
was  the  army  coming  to  take  me  away ;  and  he  was  for 
running  off  to  raise  the  country,  when  I  caught  him  by 
the  neck. 

'"It 's  the  Blazers !  ye  old  fool,'  said  I.  'The  gentlemen 
are  come  to  dine  here.' 

" '  Hurroo  ! '  said  he,  clapping  his  hands  on  his  knees, 
'  there  must  be  great  distress  entirely  down  about  Nenagh 
and  them  parts,  or  they  'd  never  think  of  coming  up  here 
for  a  bit  to  eat.' 

" '  Which  way  lie  the  stables,  Bob  ? '  said  Burke. 

" '  Leave  all  that  to  Darby,'  said  I ;  for  ye  see  he  had 
only  to  whistle  and  bring  up  as  many  people  as  he  liked. 
And  so  he  did  too ;  and  as  there  was  room  for  a  cavalry 
regiment,  the  horses  were  soon  bedded  down  and  comforta- 
ble, and  in  ten  minutes'  time  we  were  all  sitting  pleasantly 
round  a  big  fire,  waiting  for  the  rashers  and  eggs. 

"  '  Now,  if  you  'd  like  to  wash  your  hands  before  dinner, 
Lambert,  come  along  with  me.' 

" '  By  all  means,'  said  he. 

"  The  others  were  standing  up  too ;  but  I  observed  that 
as  the  house  was  large,  and  the  ways  of  it  unknown  to 
them,  it  was  better  to  wait  'till  I  'd  come  back  for  them. 

" '  This  was  a  real  piece  of  good  luck,  Bob,'  said  Dan,  as 


THE   INN  FIRE.  295 

he  followed  me  upstairs.  '  Capital  quarters  we  've  fallen 
into ;  and  what  a  snug  bed-room  ye  have  here ! ' 

" '  Yes,'  said  I,  carelessly ;  '  it 's  one  of  the  small  rooms. 
There  are  eight  like  this,  and  five  large  ones,  plainly  fur- 
nished, as  you  see ;  but  for  the  present,  you  know  — ' 

" '  Oh,  begad  !  I  wish  for  nothing  better.  Let  me  sleep 
here ;  the  other  fellows  may  care  for  your  four-posters  with 
satin  hangings.' 

"'  Well,'  said  I,  'if  you  are  really  not  joking,  I  may  tell 
you  that  the  room  is  one  of  the  warmest  in  the  house,'  — 
and  this  was  telling  no  lie. 

" '  Here  I  '11  sleep,'  said  he,  rubbing  his  hands  with  satis- 
faction, and  giving  the  bed  a  most  affectionate  look.  'And 
now  let  us  join  the  rest.' 

"  When  I  brought  Dan  down,  I  took  up  Burke,  and  after 
him  M'Mahon,  and  so  on  to  the  last ;  but  every  time  I  en- 
tered the  parlor  I  found  them  all  bestowing  immense  praises 
on  my  house,  and  each  fellow  ready  to  bet  he  had  got  the 
best  bed-room. 

"Dinner  soon  made  its  appearance;  for  if  the  cookery 
was  not  very  perfect,  it  was  at  least  wonderfully  expeditious. 
There  were  two  men  cutting  rashers,  two  more  frying  them 
in  the  pan,  and  another  did  nothing  but  break  the  eggs,  — 
Darby  running  from  the  parlor  to  the  kitchen  and  back 
again  as  hard  as  he  could  trot. 

"  Do  you  know,  now,  that  many  a  time  since  when  I  have 
been  giving  venison  and  burgundy  and  claret  enough  to 
swim  a  life-boat  in,  I  often  thought  it  was  a  cruel  waste  of 
money ;  for  the  fellows  were  n't  half  as  pleasant  as  they 
were  that  evening  on  bacon  and  whiskey ! 

"  I  've  a  theory  on  that  subject,  Hinton,  I  '11  talk  to  you 
more  about  another  time ;  I  '11  only  observe  now,  that  I  'm 
sure  we  all  over-feed  our  company.  I  've  tried  both  plans  ; 
and  my  honest  experience  is  that  as  far  as  regards  con- 
viviality, fun,  and  good  fellowship,  it  is  a  great  mistake  to 
provide  too  well  for  your  guests.  There  is  something 
heroic  in  eating  your  mutton-chop  or  your  leg  of  a  turkey 


296  JACK  HINTON.  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

among  jolly  fellows  ;  there  is  a  kind  of  reflective  flattering 
about  it  that  tells  you  you  have  been  invited  for  your  droll- 
ery and  not  for  your  digestion,  and  that  your  jokes  and  not 
your  flattery  have  been  your  recommendation.  Lord  bless 
you !  I  've  laughed  more  over  red-herrings  and  poteen  than 
I  ever  expect  to  do  again  over  turtle  and  toquay. 

"  My  guests  were,  to  do  them  justice,  a  good  illustration 
of  my  theory.  A  pleasanter  and  a  merrier  party  never  sat 
down  together.  We  had  good  songs,  good  stories,  plenty  of 
laughing,  and  plenty  of  drink ;  until  at  last  poor  Darby  be- 
came so  overpowered  (by  the  fumes  of  the  hot  water  I  sup- 
pose) that  he  was  obliged  to  be  carried  up  to  bed,  and  so 
we  were  compelled  to  boil  the  kettle  in  the  parlor.  This, 
I  think,  precipitated  matters  ;  for  by  some  mistake,  they 
put  punch  into  it  instead  of  water,  and  the  more  you  tried 
to  weaken  the  liquor  it  was  only  the  more  tipsy  you  were 
getting. 

"About  two  o'clock  five  of  the  party  were  under  the 
table,  three  more  were  nodding  backwards  and  forwards 
like  insane  pendulums,  and  the  rest  were  mighty  noisy,  and 
now  and  then  rather  disposed  to  be  quarrelsome. 

" '  Bob,'  said  Lambert  to  me,  in  a  whisper,  '  if  it 's  the 
same  thing  to  you,  I  '11  slip  away  and  get  into  bed.' 

"'Of  course,  if  you  won't  take  anything  more.  Just 
make  yourself  at  home ;  and  as  you  don't  know  the  way 
here,  follow  me.' 

" '  I  'm  afraid,'  said  he,  '  I  'd  not  find  my  way  alone.' 

"  '  I  think,'  said  I,  '  it 's  very  likely.     But  come  along ! ' 

"  I  walked  upstairs  before  him  ;  but  instead  of  turning  to 
the  left  I  went  the  other  way,  till  I  came  to  the  door  of 
the  large  room  that  I  have  told  you  already  was  over  the 
big  drawing-room.  Just  as  I  put  my  hand  on  the  lock,  I 
contrived  to  blow  out  the  candle,  as  if  it  was  the  wind. 

"  'What  a  draught  there  is  here  ! '  said  I ;  ' but  just  step 
in,  and  I'll  go  for  a  light.' 

"  He  did  as  he  was  bid ;  but  instead  of  finding  himself  on 
my  beautiful  little  carpet,  down  he  went  fourteen  feet  into 


THE  INN  FIRE.  297 

the  hay  at  the  bottom.  I  looked  down  after  him  for  a 
minute  or  two,  and  then  called  out, — 

"  '  As  I  am  doing  the  honors  of  Newgate,  the  least  I  could 
do  was  to  show  you  the  drop.  Good-night,  Dan !  but  let 
me  advise  you  to  get  a  little  farther  from  the  door,  as  there 
are  more  coming.' 

"Well,  sir,  when  they  missed  Dan  and  me  out  of  the 
room,  two  or  three  more  stood  up  and  declared  for  bed  also. 
The  first  I  took  up  was  Ffrench,  of  Green  Park  ;  for  indeed 
he  was  n't  a  cute  fellow  at  the  best  of  times,  and  if  it  was  n't 
that  the  hay  was  so  low,  he  'd  never  have  guessed  it  was 
not  a  feather-bed  till  he  woke  in  the  morning.  Well, 
down  he  went.  Then  came  Eyre ;  then  Joe  M'Mahon,  -— 
two-and-twenty  stone,  no  less  !  Lord  pity  them !  this  was 
a  great  shock  entirely !  But  when  I  opened  the  door  for 
Tom  Burke,  upon  my  conscience  you  'd  think  it  was  Pande- 
monium they  had  down  there !  They  were  fighting  like 
devils,  and  roaring  with  all  their  might. 

" '  Good-night,  Tom,'  said  I,  pushing  Burke  forward. 
'It's   the  cows  you  hear  underneath.' 

" '  Cows  ! '  said  he.  '  If  they  're  cows,  begad  they  must 
have  got  at  that  sixty-three  gallons  of  poteen  you  talked 
of;  for  they're  all  drunk.' 

"  With  that,  he  snatched  the  candle  out  of  my  hand  and 
looked  down  into  the  pit.  Never  was  such  a  sight  seen  be- 
fore or  since.  Dan  was  pitching  into  poor  Pfrench,  who, 
thinking  he  had  an  enemy  before  him,  was  hitting  out  man- 
fully at  an  old  turf-creel,  that  rocked  and  creaked  at  every 
blow,  as  he  called  out,  — 

"  '  I  '11  smash  you  !  I  '11  dinge  your  ribs  for  you,  you 
infernal   scoundrel ! ' 

"  Eyre  was  struggling  in  the  hay,  thinking  he  was  swim- 
ming for  his  life  ;  and  poor  Joe  M'Mahon  was  patting  him  on 
the  head,  and  saying,  '  Poor  fellow !  good  dog ! '  for  he 
thought  it  was  Towzer,  the  bull-terrier,  that  was  prowling 
round  the  calves  of  his  legs. 

" '  If  they  don't  get  tired,  there  will  not  be  a  man  of 


298  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

them  alive  by  morning ! '  said  Tom,  as  he  closed  the  door. 
1  And  now,  if  you  '11  allow  me  to  sleep  on  the  carpet,  I  'II 
take  it  as  a  favor.' 

"  By  this  time  they  were  all  quiet  in  the  parlor ;  so  I  lent 
Tom  a  couple  of  blankets  and  a  bolster,  and  having  locked 
my  door,  went  to  bed  with  an  easy  mind  and  a  quiet  con- 
science. To  be  sure,  now  and  then  a  cry  would  burst  forth, 
as  if  they  were  killing  somebody  below  stairs ;  but  I  soon 
fell  asleep  and  heard  no  more  of  them. 

"  By  daybreak  next  morning  they  made  their  escape  ; 
and  when  I  was  trying  to  awake  at  half-past  ten,  I  found 
Colonel  M'Morris,  of  the  Mayo,  with  a  message  from  the 
whole   four. 

'"  "'A  bad  business  this,  Captain  Mahon,'  said  he;  'my 
friends  have  been  shockingly  treated.' 

"  <  It 's  mighty  hard,'  said  I,  '  to  want  to  shoot  me  because 
I  had  n't  fourteen  feather-beds  in  the  house.' 

"  '  They  will  be  the  laugh  of  the  whole  country,  sir.' 

" 'Troth!'  said  I,  'if  the  country  is  not  in  very  low 
spirits,  I  think  they  will.' 

'  " '  There  's  not  a  man  of  them  can  see  !  their  eyes  are 
actually  closed  up ! ' 

" '  The  Lord  be  praised ! '  said  I.  '  It 's  not  likely  they  '11 
hit  me.' 

"  But  to  make  a  short  story  of  it,  out  we  went.  Tom 
Burke  was  my  friend.  I  could  scarce  hold  my  pistol  with 
laughing ;  for  such  faces  no  man  ever  looked  at.  But  for 
^elf-preservation's  sake,  I  thought  it  best  to  hit  one  of 
them ;  so  I  just  pinked  Ffrench  a  little  under  the  skirt  of 
the  coat. 

"  '  Come,  Lambert ! '  said  the  colonel,  '  it 's  your  turn 
now.' 

"  '  Was  n't  that  Lambert/  said  I,  '  that  I  hit  ? ' 

"  '  No.'  said  he,  '  that  was  Ffrench.' 

" '  Begad,  I  'm  sorry  for  it.  Ffrench,  my  dear  fellow,  ex- 
cuse me:  for  you  see  you're  all  so  like  each  other  about 
the  eyes  this  morning —  " 


THE   INN   FI11E.  299 

"  With  this  there  was  a  roar  of  laughing  from  them  all, 
in  which,  I  assure  you,  Lambert  took  not  a  very  prominent 
part ;  for  somehow  he  did  n't  fancy  my  polite  inquiries 
after  him.  And  so  we  all  shook  hands,  and  left  the  ground 
as  good  friends  as  ever,  —  though  to  this  hour  the  name  of 
Newgate  brings  less  pleasant  recollections  to  their  minds 
than  if  their  fathers  had  been  hanged  at  its  prototype." 


CONTENTS. 


Craftir  Pa«i 

I.  The  Duel         «  1 

II.  A  Country  Doctor        9 

ILL  The  Letter-Bag        15 

IV.  Bob  Mahon  and  the  Widow 22 

V.  The  Priest's  Gig 29 

VI.  The  Mountain  Pass       34 

VII.  The  Journey         47 

VIII.  MURRANAKILTY            62 

IX.  Sir  Simon          69 

X.  St.  Senan's  Well       80 

XI.  An  Unlooked-For  Meeting         92 

XII.  The  Priest's  Kitchen             103 

XIII.  Tipperary  Joe       110 

XIV.  The  High  Boad         115 

XV.  The  Assize  Town       123 

XVI.  The  Bar  Dinner        129 

XVII.  The  Beturn          134 

XVIII.  Farewell  to  Ireland         . 139 

XIX.  London          147 

XX.  An  Unhappy  Disclosure        155 

XXI.  The  Horse  Guards        162 


vi  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Pagb 

XXII.    The  Retreat  from  Burgos 171 

XXIII.  A  Mishap       177 

XXIV.  The  March 187 

XXV.     Vittoria 192 

XXVI.    The  Retreat 199 

XXVII.    The  Four-in-Hand 215 

XXVIII.     St.  Denis       221 

XXIX.     Paris  in  1814 226 

XXX.    The  Roni  Fete 240 

XXXI.    Frescati 255 

XXXII.    Disclosures 269 

XXXIII.  New  Arrivals 281 

XXXIV.  Conclusion 286 

Envoy 290 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 
Volume  Two. 


i£tri)t'n0S. 


PAGE 


Fattier  Tom's  Curriculum 31 

Farewell  to  "  Tipper  ary  Joe" 145 

Illustrations  in  tfje  Etxt 

Corny  Delany 20 

St.  Senan's  Well 85 

A  Warm  Reception 98 

What  is  It  ? 170 

LA  VlVANDlfeRE 180 

A  Cutting  Reception 231 

Caught  a  Tartar 287 


JACK   HINTON,    THE    GUARDSMAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    DUEL. 

When  morning  broke,  I  started  up  and  opened  the  win- 
dow. It  was  one  of  those  bright  and  beauteous  daybreaks 
which  would  seem  to  be  the  compensation  a  northern  cli- 
mate possesses  for  its  want  of  the  azure  sky  of  noon  and 
the  silvery  moonlight  of  night,  the  gifts  of  happier  climes. 
The  pink  hue  of  the  sky  was  gradually  replacing  the  paler 
tints,  like  a  deep  blush  mantling  the  cheek  of  beauty; 
the  lark  was  singing  high  in  heaven,  and  the  deep  note  of 
the  black-bird  came  mellowed  from  the  leafy  grove ;  the 
cattle  were  still  at  rest,  and  seemed  half  unwilling  to  break 
the  tranquil  stillness  of  the  scene,  as  they  lay  breathing  the 
balmy  odors  from  the  wild-flowers  that  grew  around  them. 
Such  was  the  picture  that  lay  on  one  side  of  me.  On  the 
other  was  the  long  street  of  a  little  town,  on  which  yet  the 
shadows  of  night  were  sleeping  ;  the  windows  were  closed ; 
not  a  smoke-wreath  rose  from  any  chimney,  but  all  was 
still  and  peaceful. 

In  my  little  parlor  I  found  the  good  priest  and  the  major 
fast  asleep  in  their  chairs,  pretty  much  in  the  same  atti- 
tudes I  had  left  them  in  some  hours  before.  The  fire  had 
died  away ;  the  square  decanter  of  whiskey  was  emptied  to 
its  last  drop,  and  the  kettle  lay  pensively  on  one  side,  like 
some  shipwrecked  craft  high  and  dry  upon  the  shore.  I 
looked  at  my  watch  ;  it  was  but  four  o'clock.  Our  meeting 
was  appointed  for  half-past  five ;  so  I  crept  noiselessly  back 


2  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

to  my  room,  not  sorry  to  have  half-an-hour  to  myself  of  un- 
disturbed reflection.  When  I  had  finished  my  dressing,  I 
threw  up  the  sash  and  sprang  out  into  the  garden.  It  was 
a  wild,  uncultivated  spot ;  but  still  there  was  something  of 
beauty  in  those  old  trees  whose  rich  blossoms  scented  the 
air,  while  the  rank  weeds  of  many  a  gay  and  gaudy  hue 
shot  up  luxuriantly  about  their  trunks,  the  pink  marsh- 
mallow  and  the  taper  foxglove  mingling  their  colors  with 
the  sprayey  meadow-sweet  and  the  wild  sweetbrier.  There 
was  an  air  of  solitude  in  the  neglect  around  me  that  seemed 
to  suit  the  habit  of  my  soul ;  and  I  strolled  along  from  one 
walk  to  another,  lost  in  my  own  thoughts. 

There  were  many  things  at  a  moment  like  that  I  would 
fain  have  written,  fain  have  said ;  but  so  it  is,  in  the 
wealth  of  our  emotions  we  can  give  nothing,  and  I  could 
not  bring  myself  to  write  to  my  friends  even  to  say  fare- 
well. Although  I  felt  that  in  every  stage  of  this  proceed- 
ing I  had  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,  this  duel  being 
thrust  on  me  by  one  who  had  singled  me  out  for  his  hatred, 
yet  I  saw  as  its  result  nothing  but  the  wreck  of  all  my 
hopes.  Already  had  she  intimated  how  strong  was  her 
father's  attachment  to  his  nephew,  and  with  an  expressive 
fear  cautioned  me  against  any  collision  with  him.  How 
vain  are  all  our  efforts,  how  fruitless  are  all  our  endeavors, 
to  struggle  against  the  current  of  our  fate  !  We  may  stem 
for  a  short  time  the  full  tide  of  fortune,  we  may  breast 
with  courage  high  and  spirit  fierce  the  rough  billows  as 
they  break  upon  us,  but  we  are  certain  to  succumb  in  the 
end.  With  some  men  failure  is  a  question  of  fear ;  some 
want  the  persevering  courage  to  drag  on  amid  trials  and 
difficulties  ;  and  some  are  deficient  in  the  temper  which, 
subduing  our  actions  to  a  law,  governs  and  presides  over 
every  moment  of  our  lives,  rendering  us,  even  in  our 
periods  of  excitement  and  irritation,  amenable  to  the  guid- 
ance of  our  reason.  This  was  my  case  ;  and  I  felt  that  not- 
withstanding all  my  wishes  to  avoid  a  quarrel  with  Burke, 
yet  in  my  heart  a  lurking  spirit  urged  me  to  seek  him  out 
and  offer  him  defiance. 


THE   DUEL.  3 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  iny  mind,  I 
suddenly  heard  a  voice  which  somehow  seemed  half  fa- 
miliar to  my  ear.  I  listened :  it  came  from  a  room  of 
which  the,  window  was  partly  open.  I  now  remembered 
that  poor  Joe  lay  in  that  part  of  the  house,  and  the  next 
moment  I  knew  it  to  be  his.  Placing  a  ladder  against  the 
wall,  I  crept  quietly  up  till  I  could  peep  into  the  room. 
The  poor  fellow  was  alone,  sitting  up  in  his  bed,  with  his 
hunting-cap  on,  an  old  whip  in  his  hand,  which  he  flour- 
ished from  time  to  time  with  no  small  energy ;  his  cheek 
was  flushed,  and  his  eye,  prominent  and  flashing,  denoted 
the  access  of  high  fever.  It  was  evident  that  his  faculties, 
clouded  as  they  were  even  in  their  happiest  moments,  were 
now  under  the  wilder  influence  of  delirium.  He  was  speak- 
ing rapidly  to  himself  in  a  quick  undertone,  calling  the 
dogs  by  name,  caressing  this  one,  scolding  that ;  and  then, 
bursting  forth  into  a  loud  tally-ho,  his  face  glowed  with  an 
ecstatic  pleasure,  and  he  broke  forth  into  a  rude  chant,  the 
words  of  which  I  have  never  forgotten,  for  as  he  sang  them 
in  a  voice  of  wild  and  touching  sweetness,  they  seemed  the 
very  outpourings  of  his  poor  simple  heart :  — 

"  I  never  yet  owned  a  horse  or  hound, 
I  never  was  lord  of  a  foot  of  ground ; 
Yet  few  are  richer,  I  will  be  bound, 

Than  me  of  a  hunting  morning. 

"I'm  far  better  off  nor  him  that  pays, 
For  though  I've  no  money,  I  live  at  my  aise, 
With  hunting  and  shooting  whenever  I  plase, 
And  a  tally -high-ho  in  the  morning. 

"  As  I  go  on  foot,  I  don't  lose  my  sate, 
As  I  take  the  gaps,  I  don't  brake  a  gate ; 
And  if  I  'm  not  first,  why  I  'm  seldom  late, 

With  my  tally-high-ho  in  the  morning. 

"  And  there  's  not  a  man,  be  he  high  or  low, 
In  the  parts  down  here,  or  wherever  you  go, 
That  does  n't  like  poor  Tipperary  Joe, 

With  his  tally-high-ho  in  the  morning." 


4  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

A  loud  view-holloa  followed  this  wild  chant ;  and  then 
the  poor  fellow,  as  if  exhausted  by  his  efforts,  sank  back  in 
the  bed  muttering  to  himself  in  a  low  broken  voice,  but 
with  a  look  so  happy  and  a  smile  so  tranquil  he  seemed 
more  a  thing  to  envy  than  one  to  commiserate  and  pity. 

"  I  say,  Hinton !  "  shouted  the  major  from  the  window  of 
my  bedroom,  "  what  the  deuce  are  you  doing  up  that  ladder 
there  ?  Not  serenading  Mrs.  Doolan,  I  hope.  Are  you 
aware  it  is  five  o'clock  ? " 

I  descended  with  all  haste,  and  joining  my  friend,  took 
his  arm,  and  set  out  towards  the  rendezvous. 

"  I  did  n't  order  the  horses,"  said  Mahon,  "  for  the  rumor 
of  such  a  thing  as  this  always  gets  abroad  through  one's 
servants." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  I ;  "  and  then  you  have  the  police." 

"  The  police  ! "  repeated  he,  laughing,  —  "  not  a  bit  of  it, 
my  boy  :  don't  forget  you  're  in  glorious  old  Ireland,  where 
no  one  ever  thinks  of  spoiling  a  fair  fight.  It  is  possible 
the  magistrate  might  issue  his  warrant  if  you  would  not 
come  up  to  time,  but  for  anything  else  — " 

"Well,"  said  I,  "that  certainly  does  afford  me  another 
glimpse  of  your  habits.     How  far  have  we  to  go,  Major?" 

"You  remember  the  grass-field  below  the  sunk  fence,  to 
the  left  of  the  mill  ?  " 

"Where  the  stream  runs  ?" 

"  Exactly ;  that 's  the  spot.  It  was  old  Pigott  chose  it, 
and  no  man  is  a  better  judge  of  these  things.  By-the-bye, 
it  is  very  lucky  that  Burke  should  have  pitched  upon  a  gen- 
tleman for  his  friend,  —  I  mean  a  real  gentleman,  for  there 
are  plenty  of  his  acquaintances  who  under  that  name  would 
rob  the  mail." 

Thus  chatting  as  we  went,  Mahon  informed  me  that 
Pigott  was  an  old  half-pay  colonel,  whose  principal  occu- 
pation for  thirteen  years  had  been  what  the  French  would 
call  "to  assist"  at  affairs  of  honor.  Even  the  major  him- 
self looked  up  to  him  as  a  last  appeal  in  a  disputed  or  a 
difficult  point ;  and  many  a  reserved  case  was  kept  for  his 
opinion,  with  the  same  ceremonious  observance  as  a  knotty 


THE  DUEL.  5 

point  of  law  for  the  consideration  of  the  twelve  judges. 
Crossing  the  little  rivulet  near  the  mill,  we  held  on  by  a 
small  by-path  which  brought  us  over  the  starting-ground 
of  the  steeple-chase,  by  the  scene  of  part  of  my  preceding 
day's  exploits.  While  I  was  examining  with  some  curiosity 
the  ground  cut  up  and  trod  by  the  horses'  feet,  and  looking 
at  the  spot  where  we  had  taken  the  fence,  the  sharp  sound 
of  two  pistol  shots  quickly  aroused  me,  and  I  eagerly  asked 
what  it  was. 

"  Snapping  the  pistols,"  said  Mahon.  "  Ah,  by-the-bye, 
all  this  kind  of  thing  is  new  to  you.  Never  mind ;  put  a 
careless,  half-indifferent  kind  of  face  on  the  matter.  Do 
you  take  snuff  ?  It  does  n't  signify ;  put  your  hands  in 
your  pockets,  and  hum  <  Tatter  Jack  Walsh ! '  " 

As  I  supposed  there  was  no  specific  charm  in  the  melody 
he  alluded  to,  nor  if  there  had  been  had  I  any  time  to  ac- 
quire it,  I  consoled  myself  by  observing  the  first  part  of  his 
direction,  and  strolled  after  him  into  the  field  with  a  non- 
chalance only  perhaps  a  little  too  perfect. 

Mr.  Burke  and  his  friends,  to  the  number  of  about  a 
dozen  persons,  were  already  assembled ;  and  were  one  to 
judge  from  their  loud  talking  and  hearty  laughter  as  we 
came  forward,  it  would  seem  difficult  to  believe  the  occa- 
sion that  brought  them  there  was  that  of  mortal  combat. 
So,  at  least,  I  thought.  Not  so,  however,  the  major ;  for 
with  a  hop,  step,  and  a  jump,  performed  by  about  the  short- 
est pair  of  legs  in  the  barony,  he  sprang  into  the  midst  of 
the  party,  with  some  droll  observation  on  the  benefits  of 
early  rising  which  once  more  called  forth  their  merriment. 
Seating  myself  on  a  large  moss-covered  stone,  I  waited 
patiently  for  the  preliminaries  to  be  settled.  As  I  threw 
my  eye  among  the  group,  I  perceived  that  Burke  was  not 
there  ;  but  on  turning  my  head,  I  remarked  two  men  walk- 
ing arm-in-arm  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hedge.  As  they 
paced  to  and  fro,  I  could  see,  by  the  violence  of  his  gesticu- 
lations and  the  energy  of  his  manner,  that  one  was  Burke. 
It  seemed  as  though  his  companion  was  endeavoring  to 
reason  with  and  dissuade  him  from  some  course  of  proceed- 


6  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ing  lie  appeared  bent  on  following ;  but  there  was  a  savage 
earnestness  in  his  manner  that  would  not  admit  of  persua- 
sion ;  and  at  last,  as  if  wearied  and  vexed  by  his  friend's 
importunities,  he  broke  rudely  from  him,  and  springing 
over  the  fence,  called  out,  — 

"Pigott,  are  you  aware  it  is  past  six?"  Then  pulling 
out  his  watch,  he  added,  "I  must  be  at  Ballinasloe  by 
eleven  o'clock." 

"If  you  speak  another  word,  sir,"  said  the  old  colonel, 
with  an  air  of  offended  dignity,  "I  leave  the  ground.  Major 
Mahon,  a  word  if  you  please." 

They  walked  apart  from  the  rest  for  a  few  seconds ;  and 
then  the  colonel,  throwing  his  glove  upon  the  grass,  pro- 
ceeded to  step  off  the  ground  with  a  military  precision  and 
formality  that  I  am  sure  at  any  other  time  would  have 
highly  amused  me. 

After  a  slight  demur  from  the  major,  to  which  I  could 
perceive  the  colonel  readily  yielded,  a  walking-stick  was 
stuck  at  either  end  of  the  measured  distance;  while  the 
two  seconds,  placing  themselves  beside  them,  looked  at 
each  other  with  very  great  satisfaction,  and  mutually 
agreed  it  was  a  sweet  spot. 

"  Would  you  like  to  look  at  these  ?  "  said  Pigott,  taking 
up  the  pistols  from  where  they  lay  on  the  grass. 

"Ah,  I  know  them  well,"  replied  the  major,  laughing; 
"these  were  poor  Tom  Casey's,  and  a  better  fellow,  and 
a  handier  with  his  iron,  never  snapped  a  trigger.  These 
are  ours,  Colonel ; "  presenting,  as  he  spoke,  two  splendid- 
looking  Mortimers,  in  all  the  brilliancy  of  their  maiden 
freshness.  A  look  of  contempt  from  the  colonel,  and  a 
most  expressive  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  was  his  reply. 

"  Begad,  I  think  so,"  said  Mahon,  as  if  appreciating  the 
gesture ;  "  I  had  rather  have  that  old  tool  with  the  cracked 
stock,  —  not  but  this  is  a  very  sweet  instrument,  and  ele- 
gantly balanced  in  the  hand." 

"  We  are  ready  now,"  said  Pigott ;  "  bring  up  your  man, 
Major." 

As  I  started  up  to  obey  the  summons,  a  slight  bustle 


THE   DUEL.  7 

near  attracted  me.  Two  or  three  of  Burke's  friends  were 
endeavoring  as  it  were  to  pacify  and  subdue  him ;  but  his 
passion  knew  no  bounds,  and  as  he  broke  from  them,  he 
said  in  a  voice  perfectly  audible  where  I  stood,  — 

"  Won't  I,  by  G !  then  I  '11  tell  you,  if  I  don't  shoot 

him  —  " 

"  Sir,"  said  the  colonel,  turning  on  him  a  look  of  passion- 
ate indignation,  "  if  it  were  not  that  you  were  here  to  an- 
swer the  appeal  of  wounded  honor,  I  'd  leave  you  to  your 
fate  this  moment ;  as  it  is,  another  such  expression  as  that 
you  've  used,  and  I  abandon  you  on  the  spot." 

Doggedly  and  without  speaking,  Burke  drew  his  hat  far 
down  upon  his  eyes,  and  took  the  place  marked  out  for  him. 

"Mr.  Hinton,"  said  the  colonel,  as  he  touched  his  hat 
with  most  courteous  politeness,  "will  you  have  the  good- 
ness to  stand  there  ?  " 

Mahon,  meanwhile,  handed  each  man  his  pistol,  and 
whispering  in  my  ear,  "  Aim  low,"  retired. 

"The  word,  gentlemen,"  said  the  colonel,  "will  be,  '  One, 
two,  three.'  Mr.  Hinton,  pray  observe,  I  beg  of  you,  you  '11 
not  reserve  your  fire  after  I  say  '  three.' "  With  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  us,  he  walked  back  about  ten  paces.  "  Are  you 
ready  ?     Are  you  both  ready  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Burke,  impatiently. 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

"One,  two,  three." 

I  lifted  my  pistol  at  the  second  word,  and  as  the  last 
dropped  from  the  colonel's  lips  one  loud  report  rang 
through  the  air,  and  both  pistols  went  off  together.  A 
quick,  sharp  pang  shot  through  my  cheek,  as  though  it 
had  been  seared  by  a  hot  instrument.  I  put  up  my  hand, 
but  the  ball  had  only  touched  the  flesh,  and  a  few  drops 
of  blood  were  all  the  damage.  Not  so  Burke  ;  my  ball  had 
entered  above  the  hip,  and  already  his  trousers  were' 
stained  with  blood,  and  notwithstanding  his  endeavors  he 
could  not  stand  up  straight. 

"  Is  he  hit,  Pigott  ? "  cried  he,  in  a  voice  harsh  from 
agony.     "  Is  he  hit,  I  say  ?  " 


8  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"Only  grazed,"  said  I,  tranquilly,  as  I  wiped  the  stain 
from  my  face. 

"Another  pistol,  quick !     Do  you  hear  me,  Pigott ?  " 

"  We  are  not  the  arbiters  in  this  case,"  replied  the  colonel, 
coolly.     "  Major  Mahon,  is  your  friend  satisfied  ?  " 

"Perfectly  satisfied  on  our  own  account,"  said  the  major; 
"  but  if  the  gentleman  desires  another  shot  —  " 

"  I  do,  I  do  ! "  screamed  Burke,  as,  writhing  with  pain, 
he  pressed  both  hands  to  his  side,  from  which  the  blood, 
now  gushing  in  torrents,  formed  a  pool  about  his  feet.  "Be 
quick  there,  Pigott !  I  am  getting  faint."  He  staggered 
forward  as  he  spoke,  his  face  pale  and  his  lips  parted ; 
then,  suddenly  clutching  his  pistol  by  the  barrel,  he  fixed 
his  eyes  steadily  on  me,  while  with  a  curse  he  hurled  the 
weapon  at  my  head,  and  fell  senseless  to  the  earth.  His 
aim  was  true ;  for  straight  between  the  eyes  the  weapon 
struck  me,  and  felled  me  to  the  ground.  Although  stunned 
for  the  moment,  I  could  hear  the  cry  of  horror  and  indig- 
nant shame  that  broke  from  the  bystanders ;  but  the  next 
instant  a  dreamy  confusion  came  over  me,  and  I  became 
unconscious  of  what  was  passing  around. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    COUNTRY     DOCTOR. 

Should  my  reader  feel  any  interest  concerning  that  por- 
tion of  iny  history  which  immediately  followed  the  events 
of  my  last  chapter,  I  believe  I  must  refer  him  to  Mrs. 
Doolan,  the  amiable  hostess  of  the  Bonaveen  Arms.  She 
could  probably  satisfy  any  curious  inquiry  as  to  the  con- 
fusion produced  in  her  establishment  by  the  lively  sallies 
of  Tipperary  Joe  in  one  quarter,  and  the  more  riotous 
madness  of  myself  in  another.  The  fact  is,  good  reader, 
my  head  was  an  English  one ;  and  although  its  contents 
were  gradually  acclimating  themselves  to  the  habits  of  the 
country,  the  external  shell  had  not  assumed  that  proper 
thickness  and  due  power  of  resistance  which  Irish  heads 
would  appear  to  be  gifted  with.  In  plain  words,  the  injury 
had  brought  on  delirium. 

It  was  somewhere  in  the  third  week  after  this  unlucky 
morning  that  I  found  myself  lying  in  my  bed,  with  a  wet 
cloth  upon  my  temples ;  while  over  my  whole  frame  was 
spread  that  depressing  sense  of  great  debility  more  difficult 
to  bear  than  acute  bodily  suffering.  Although  unable  to 
speak,  I  could  distinctly  hear  the  conversation  about  me, 
and  recognize  the  voices  of  both  Father  Tom  and  the  major 
as  they  conversed  with  a  third  party,  whom  I  afterwards 
learned  was  the  Galen  of  Loughrea. 

Dr.  Mopin,  surgeon  of  the  Roscommon  militia,  had  been 
for  forty  years  the  terror  of  the  sick  of  the  surrounding 
country  ;  for,  independent  of  a  naturally  harsh  and  dis- 
agreeable manner,  he  had  a  certain  slang  and  sneering  way 
of  addressing  his  patients  that  was  perfectly  shocking. 
Amusing  himself  the  while  at  their  expense,  by  suggesting 


10  JACK  H1NTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

the  various  unhappy  and  miserable  consequences  that  might 
follow  on  their  illness,  he  appeared  to  take  a  diabolical 
pleasure  in  the  terror  he  was  capable  of  eliciting.  There 
was  something  almost  amusing  in  the  infernal  ingenuity 
he  had  acquired  in  this  species  of  torture.  There  was  no 
stage  of  your  illness,  no  phase  of  your  constitution,  no  char- 
acter or  condition  of  your  malady,  that  was  not  the  imme- 
diate forerunner  of  one  or  more  afflicting  calamities.  Were 
you  getting  weaker,  it  was  the  way  they  always  died  out ; 
did  you  gain  strength,  it  was  a  rally  before  death;  were 
you  despondent,  it  was  best  for  you  to  know  your  state ; 
were  you  sanguine,  he  would  rebuke  your  good  spirits,  and 
suggest  the  propriety  of  a  priest.  However,  with  all  these 
qualifications  people  put  up  with  him ;  and  as  he  had  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  rude  skill,  and  never  stuck  at  a  bold  method, 
he  obtained  the  best  practice  of  the  country  and  a  wide- 
spread reputation. 

'•  Well,"  said  Father  Tom,  in  a  low  voice,  —  "  well,  Doc- 
tor, what  do  you  think  of  him  this  evening  ?  " 

"What  do  I  think -of  him  ?  Just  what  I  thought  before, 
—  congestion  of  the  membranes.  This  is  the  low  stage  he 
is  in  now  ;  I  would  n't  be  surprised  if  he  'd  get  a  little 
better  in  a  few  days,  and  then  go  off  like  the  rest  of  them." 

"  Go  off !  eh  ?     Xow  you  don't  mean  —  " 

"Don't  I?  Maybe  not.  The  ould  story, — coma,  con- 
vulsions, and  death." 

"Damn  the  fellow!"  said  the  major,  in  a  muttered 
voice,  "I  feel  as  if  I  was  in  a  well.  But  I  say,  Doctor, 
what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"Anything  you  plase.  They  say  his  family  is  mighty 
respectable,  and  have  plenty  of  money.  I  hope  so;  for 
here  am  I  coming  three  times  a  day,  and  maybe  when  he 
dies  it  will  be  a  mourning  ring  they  '11  be  sending  me  in- 
stead of  my  fee.  He  was  a  dissipated  chap  I  am  sure  : 
look  at  the  circles  under  his  eyes ! " 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  the  priest,  "  but  they  only  came  since  his 
illness." 

"  So    much   the   worse,"   added    the   invincible   doctor ; 


A  COUNTRY  DOCTOR.  11 

"that's  always  a  symptom  that  the  base  of  the  brain  is 
attacked." 

"  And  what  happens  then  ?  "  said  the  major. 

"  Oh,  he  might  recover.  I  knew  a  man  once  get  over  it, 
and  he  is  alive  now,  and  in  Swift's  Hospital." 

"  Mad  ?  "  said  the  priest. 

"  Mad  as  a  March  hare,"  grinned  the  doctor ;  "  he  thinks 
himself  the  post-office  clock,  and  chimes  all  the  hours  and 
half-hours  day  and  night." 

"  The  heavens  be  about  us  !  "  said  Father  Tom,  crossing 
himself,  piously.     "  I  had  rather  be  dead  than  that." 

"When  did  you  see  Burke?"  inquired  the  major,  wish- 
ing to  change  the  conversation. 

"  About  an  hour  ago  ;  he  is  going  fast." 

"  Why,  I  thought  he  was  better,"  said  Father  Tom ; 
"they  told  me  he  eat  a  bit  of  chicken,  and  took  a  little 
wine  and  water." 

"  Ay,  so  he  did ;  I  bid  them  give  him  whatever  he  liked, 
as  his  time  was  so  short.  So,  after  all,  maybe  it  is  as  well 
for  this  young  chap  here  not  to  get  over  it." 

"  How  so  ?  "  said  the  major.  "  What  do  you  mean  by 
that  ?  " 

"  Just  that  it  is  as  good  to  die  of  a  brain  fever  as  be 
hanged ;  and  it  won't  shock  the  family." 

"  I  'd  break  his  neck,"  muttered  Bob  Mahon,  "  if  there 
was  another  doctor  within  forty  miles." 

Of  all  his  patients,  Tipperary  Joe  was  the  only  one  of 
whom  the  doctor  spoke  without  disparagement.  Whether 
that  the  poor  fellow's  indifference  to  his  powers  of  terror- 
izing had  awed  or  conciliated  him,  I  know  not  ;  but  he 
expressed  himself  favorably  regarding  his  case,  and  his 
prospects  of  recovery. 

"  Them  chaps  always  recover,"  drawled  out  the  doctor  in 
a  dolorous  cadence. 

"  Is  it  true,"  said  the  major,  with  a  malicious  grin,  —  "  is 
it  true  that  he  changed  all  the  splints  and  bandages  to  the 
sound  leg,  and  that  you  did  n't  discover  the  mistake  for  a 
week  afterwards  ?    Mary  Doolan  told  me." 


12  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  Mrs.  Doolan,"  said  the  doctor,  "  ought  to  be  thinking  of 
her  own  misfortunes  ;  and  with  an  acute  inflammation  of 
the  pericardium,  she  might  be  making  her  sowl." 

"  She  ill  ?  —  that  fine,  fat,  comfortable-looking  woman  ! " 

"  Ay,  just  so  ;  they  're  always  fat,  and  have  a  sleepy  look 
about  the  eyes,  just  like  yourself.  Do  you  ever  bleed  at  the 
nose  ?  " 

"  Never  without  a  blow  on  it.  Come,  come,  I  know  you 
well,  Doctor ;  you  shall  not  terrify  me." 

"  You  're  right  not  to  fret ;  for  it  will  take  you  off  sud- 
denly, with  a  giddiness  in  your  head,  and  a  rolling  in  your 
eyes,  and  a  choking  feel  about  your  throat  —  " 

"  Stop,  and  be  d d  to  you ! "  said  the  major,  as  he 

cleared  his  voice  a  couple  of  times,  and  loosed  the  tie  of  his 
cravat.     "  This  room  is  oppressively  hot." 

"  I  protest  to  God,"  said  Father  Tom,  "  my  heart  is  in 
my  mouth,  and  there  is  n't  a  bone  in  my  body  that 's  not 
aching." 

"I  don't  wonder,"  chimed  in  the  doctor;  "you  are  an- 
other of  them,  and  you  are  a  surprising  man  to  go  on  so 
long.  Sure,  it  is  two  years  ago  I  warned  your  niece  that 
when  she  saw  you  fall  down,  she  must  open  a  vein  in  your 
neck,  if  it  was  only  with  a  carving-knife." 

"  The  saints  in  heaven  forbid ! "  said  the  priest,  cutting 
the  sign  of  the  cross  in  the  air ;  "  it 's  maybe  the  jugular 
she  'd  cut !  " 

"  No,"  drawled  out  the  doctor,  "  she  need  n't  go  so  deep  ; 
and  if  her  hand  does  n't  shake,  there  won't  be  much  danger. 
Good  evening  to  you  both." 

So  saying,  with  his  knees  bent,  and  his  hands  crossed 
under  the  skirts  of  his  coat,  he  sneaked  out  of  the  room  ; 
while  the  others,  overcome  with  fear,  shame,  and  dismay, 
sat  silently,  looking  misery  itself,  at  each  side  of  the 
table. 

"  That  fellow  would  kill  a  regiment,"  said  the  major  at 
length.  "Come,  Tom,  let's  have  a  little  punch;  I've  a 
kind  of  a  trembling  over  me." 

"  Not  a  drop  of  anything  stronger  than  water  will  cross 


A  COUNTRY  DOCTOR.  13 

my  lips  this  blessed  night.  Do  you  know,  Bob,  I  think 
this  place  does  n't  agree  with  me  ?  I  wish  I  was  back  in 
Murranakilty :  the  mountain  air,  and  regular  habits  of  life, 
that 's  the  thing  for  me." 

"  We  are  none  of  us  abstemious  enough,"  said  the  major ; 
"  and  then  we  bachelors  —  to  be  sure  you  have  your  niece." 

"Whisht!"  said  the  priest,  "how  do  you  know  who  is 
listening  ?  I  vow  to  God  I  am  quite  alarmed  at  his  telling 
that  to  Mary ;  some  night  or  other,  if  I  take  a  little  too  much, 
she  '11  maybe  try  her  anatomy  upon  me  ! " 

This  unhappy  reflection  seemed  to  weigh  upon  the  good 
priest's  mind,  and  set  him  a  mumbling  certain  Latin  offices 
between  his  teeth  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

"  I  wish,"  said  the  major,  "  Hinton  was  able  to  read  his 
letters,  for  here  is  a  whole  bundle  of  them,  —  some  from 
England,  some  from  the  Castle,  and  some  marked  '  on  his 
Majesty's  service.'  " 

"  I  '11  wait  another  week  anyhow  for  him,"  said  the  priest. 
"  To  go  back  to  Dublin  in  the  state  he  is  now  would  be  the 
ruin  of  him,  after  the  shake  he  has  got.  The  dissipation, 
the  dining-out,  and  all  the  devilment  would  destroy  him 
entirely  ;  but  a  few  weeks'  peace  and  quietness  up  at  Mur- 
ranakilty will  make  him  as  sound  as  a  bell." 

"  You  are  right,  Tom,  you  are  right,"  said  the  major ; 
"  the  poor  fellow  must  n't  be  lost  for  the  want  of  a  little 
care ;  and  now  that  Dillon  has  gone,  there  is  no  one  here  to 
look  after  him.  Let  us  go  down  and  see  if  the  post  is  in ;  I 
think  a  walk  would  do  us  good." 

Assenting  to  this  proposition,  the  priest  bent  over  me 
mournfully  for  a  moment,  shook  his  head,  and  having  mut- 
tered a  blessing,  walked  out  of  the  room  with  the  major, 
leaving  me  in  silence  to  think  over  all  I  had  overheard. 

Whether  it  was  that  youth  suggested  the  hope,  or  that  I 
more  quickly  imbibed  an  appreciation  of  the  doctor's  char- 
acter from  being"  the  looker-on  at  the  game,  I  am  not  ex- 
actly sure ;  but  certainly  I  felt  little  depressed  by  his 
gloomy  forebodings  respecting  me,  and  greatly  lightened 
at  my  heart  by  the  good  news  of  poor  Tipperary  Joe. 


14  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Of  all  the  circumstances  which  attended  my  illness,  the 
one  that  most  impressed  me  was  the  warm,  affectionate 
solicitude  of  my  two  friends,  the  priest  and  his  cousin. 
There  was  something  of  kindness  and  good  feeling  in  their 
care  of  me  that  spoke  rather  of  a  long  friendship  than  of 
the  weaker  ties  of  chance  and  passing  acquaintance.  Again 
I  thought  of  home  ;  and  while  I  asked  myself  if  the  events 
which  beset  my  path  in  Ireland  could  possibly  have  hap- 
pened to  me  there,  I  could  not  but  acknowledge  that  if  they 
had  so,  I  could  scarcely  have  hoped  to  suddenly  conjure  up 
such  faithful  and  benevolent  friends,  with  no  other  claim, 
nor  other  recommendation,  save  that  of  being  a  stranger. 

The  casual  observation  concerning  my  letters  had,  by 
stimulating  my  curiosity,  awakened  my  dormant  energy; 
and  by  a  great  effort  I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  the  little 
bell  beside  my  bed,  and  rang  it.  The  summons  was  an- 
swered by  the  bare-legged  girl  who  acted  as  waiter  in  the 
inn.  When  she  had  sufficiently  recovered  from  her  aston- 
ishment to  comprehend  my  request,  I  persuaded  her  to 
place  a  candle  beside  me,  and  having  given  me  the  packet 
of  letters  that  lay  on  the  chimney-piece,  I  desired  her  on 
no  account  to  admit  any  one,  but  say  that  I  had  fallen  into 
a  sound  sleep,  and  should  not  be  disturbed. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    LETTE  R-B  A  G. 

The  package  of  letters  was  a  large  one,  of  all  sizes. 
From  all  quarters  they  came,  —  some  from  home ;  some 
from  my  brother  officers  of  the  Guards;  some  from  the 
Castle ;  and  even  one  from  O'Grady. 

The  first  I  opened  was  a  short  note  from  Horton,  the 
private  secretary  to  the  viceroy.  This  informed  me  that 
Major  Mahon  had  written  a  statement  to  the  duke  of  all 
the  circumstances  attending  my  duel ;  and  that  his  Grace 
had  not  only  expressed  himself  highly  satisfied  with  my 
conduct,  but  had  ordered  a  very  polite  reply  to  be  addressed 
to  the  major,  thanking  him  for  his  great  kindness,  and  say- 
ing with  what  pleasure  he  found  that  a  member  of  his  staff 
had  fallen  into  such  good  hands. 

"His  Grace  desires  me  to  add,"  continued  the  writer,  "that  you 
need  only  consult  your  own  health  and  convenience  with  respect  to 
your  return  to  duty  ;  and,  iu  fact,  your  leave  of  absence  is  perfectly 
discretionary." 

My  mind  relieved  of  a  weighty  load  by  the  contents  of 
this  letter,  I  recovered  my  strength  already  so  far  that  I 
sat  up  in  bed  to  peruse  the  others.  My  next  was  from  my 
father ;  it  ran  thus  :  — 

Dear  Jack,  —  Your  friend  Major  Mahon,  to  whom  I  wTite  by 
this  post,  will  deliver  this  letter  to  you  when  he  deems  fit.  He  has 
been  most  good-natured  in  conveying  to  me  a  narrative  of  your  late 
doings  ;  and  I  cannot  express  how  grateful  we  all  are  to  him  for  the 
truly  friendly  part  he  has  taken  towards  you.  After  the  strictest  scru- 
tiny, for  1  confess  to  you  I  feared  lest  the  major's  might  be  too  partial 
an  account,  I  rejoice  to  say  that  your  conduct  meets  with  my  entire 
approbation.  An  older  and  a  wiser  head  might,  it  is  possible,  have 
avoided  some  of  the  difficulties  you  have  met  with  ;  but  this  I  will 


16  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

add,  —  that  once  in  trouble,  no  one  could  have  shown  better  temper 
or  a  more  befitting  spirit  than  you  did.  While  I  sajr  this,  my  dear 
Jack,  understand  me  clearly  that  I  speak  of  you  as  a  young,  inexperi- 
enced man,  thrown  at  his  very  outset  of  life  not  only  among  strangers, 
but  in  a  country  where,  as  I  remarked  to  you  at  first,  everything  is 
different  from  those  in  your  own.  You  have  now  shown  yourself 
equal  to  any  circumstances  in  which  you  may  be  placed.  I  therefore 
not  only  expect  that  you  will  meet  with  fewer  embarrassments  in 
future,  but  that,  should  they  arise,  I  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of 
finding  your  character  and  your  habits  will  be  as  much  your  safe- 
guard against  insult  as  your  readiness  to  resent  any  will  be  sure 
and  certain. 

I  have  seen  the  duke  several  times,  and  he  expresses  himself  as 
much  pleased  with  you.  From  what  he  mentions,  I  can  collect  that 
you  are  well  satisfied  with  Ireland,  and  therefore  I  do  not  wish  to 
remove  you  from  it.  At  the  same  time,  bear  in  mind  that  by  active 
service  alone  can  you  ever  attain  to,  or  merit,  rank  in  the  army ;  and 
that  hitherto  you  have  only  been  a  soldier  by  name. 

After  some  further  words  of  advice  respecting  the  future, 
and  some  few  details  of  family  matters,  he  concluded  by 
intrusting  to  my  mother  the  mention  of  what  she  herself 
professed  to  think  lay  more  in  her  peculiar  province. 

As  usual,  her  letter  opened  with  some  meteorological 
observations  upon  the  climate  of  England  for  the  preceding 
six  weeks ;  then  followed  a  journal  of  her  own  health, 
whose  increasing  delicacy,  and  the  imperative  necessity  of 

being  near  Doctor  Y ,  rendered  a  journey  to  Ireland 

too  dangerous  to  think  of. 

Yes,  my  dearest  boy  [wrote  she],  nothing  but  this  would  keep 
me  from  you  a  moment ;  however,  I  am  much  relieved  at  learning 
that  you  are  now  rapidly  recovering,  and  hope  soon  to  hear  of  your 
return  to  Dublin.  It  is  a  very  dreadful  thing  to  think  of,  but  per- 
haps upon  the  whole  it  is  better  that  you  did  kill  this  Mr.  Burke.  De 
Grammont  tells  me  that  a  mauvaise  tete  like  that  must  be  shot  sooner 
or  later.  It  makes  me  nervous  to  dwell  on  this  odious  topic,  so  that 
I  shall  pass  on  to  something  else. 

The  horrid  little  man  that  brought  your  letters,  and  who  calls  him- 
self a  servant  of  Captain  O'Grady,  insisted  on  seeing  me  yesterday. 
I  never  was  more  shocked  in  my  life.     From  what  he  says,  I  gather 


THE  LETTER-BAG.  17 

that  he  may  be  looked  on  as  rather  a  favorable  specimen  of  the 
natives.  They  must  indeed  be  a  very  frightful  people;  and  although 
he  assured  me  he  would  do  me  no  injury,  I  made  Thomas  stay  in  the 
room  the  entire  time,  and  told  Chubbs  to  give  the  alarm  to  the  police 
if  he  beard"  the  slightest  noise.  The  creature,  however,  did  nothing, 
and  I  have  quite  recovered  from  my  fear  already. 

What  a  picture,  my  dear  boy,  did  he  present  to  me  of  your  conduct 
and  habits !  Your  intimacy  with  that  odious  family  I  mentioned  in 
my  last  seems  the  root  of  all  your  misfortunes.  Why  will  such 
people  thrust  themselves  forward  ?  What  do  they  mean  by  inviting 
you  to  their  frightful  parties?  Have  they  not  their  own  peculiar 
horrors  ?  — not  but  I  must  confess  that  they  are  more  excusable  than 
you ;  and  I  cannot  conceive  how  you  could  so  soon  have  forgotten 
the  lessons  instilled  into  you  from  your  earliest  years.  As  your  poor 
dear  grandfather,  the  admiral,  used  to  say,  a  vulgar  acquaintance  is  a 
shifting  sand ;  you  can  never  tell  where  you  won't  meet  it,  —  always 
at  the  most  inopportune  moment;  and  then,  if  you  remark,  your 
underbred  people  are  never  content  with  a  quiet  recognition,  but 
they  must  always  indulge  in  a  detestable  cordiality  there  is  no  escap- 
ing from.  Oh,  John,  John  !  when  at  ten  years  of  age  you  made  the 
banker's  son  at  Northampton  hold  your  stirrup  as  you  mounted  your 
pony,  I  never  thought  I  should  have  this  reproach  to  make  you. 

The  little  fiend,  who  calls  himself  Corny  something,  also  mentions 
your  continued  familiarity  with  the  young  woman  I  spoke  of  before. 
What  her  intentions  are  is  perfectly  clear,  and  should  she  accomplish 
her  object,  your  position  in  society  and  future  fortune  might  possibly 
procure  her  large  damages ;  but  pause,  my  dear  boy,  before  you  go 
any  further.  I  do  not  speak  of  the  moral  features  of  the  case,  for 
you  are  of  an  age  to  judge  of  them  yourself;  but  think,  I  beseech 
you,  of  the  difficulties  it  will  throw  around  your  path  in  life,  and  the 
obstacles  it  will  oppose  to  your  success.  There  is  poor  Lord  Henry 
Effingham  ;  and  since  that  foolish  business  with  the  clergyman's  wife 
or  daughter,  where  somebody  went  mad,  and  some  one  else  drowned 
or  shot  himself,  they  have  never  given  him  any  appointment  what- 
ever. The  world  is  a  frightful  and  unforgiving  thing,  as  poor  Lord 
Henry  knows  ;  therefore  beware ! 

The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  strongly  do  I  feel  the  force  of  my 
first  impressions  respecting  Ireland  ;  and  were  it  not  that  we  so  con- 
stantly hear  of  battles  and  bloodshed  in  the  Peninsula,  I  should  even 
prefer  your  being  there.  There  would  seem  to  be  an  unhappy  destiny 
over  everything  belonging  to  me.  My  poor  dear  father,  the  admiral, 
had  a  life   of  hardship,  almost  unrewarded.     For  eleven  years  he 

VOL.  II.  —  2 


18  JACK   HLNTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

commanded  a  guardship  in  the  Nore  ;  many  a  night  have  I  seen  him, 
when  I  was  a  little  girl,  come  home  dripping  with  wet,  and  perfectly 
insensible  from  the  stimulants  he  was  obliged  to  resort  to,  and  be 
carried  in  that  state  to  his  bed  ;  and  after  all  this  he  did  n't  get  his 
blue  ribbon  till  he  was  near  sixty. 

De  Vere  is  constantly  with  us,  and  is,  I  remark,  attentive  to  your 
cousin  Julia.  This  is  not  of  so  much  consequence,  as  I  hear  that  her 
Chancery  suit  is  taking  an  unhappy  turn  ;  should  it  be  otherwise, 
your  interests  will,  of  course,  be  looked  to.  De  Vere  is  most  amus- 
ing, and  has  a  great  deal  of  wit ;  but  for  him  and  the  count  we 
should  be  quite  dreary,  as  the  season  is  over,  and  we  can't  leave 
town  for  at  least  three  weeks.  [The  epistle  concluded  with  a  general 
summing  up  of  its  contents,  and  an  affectionate  entreaty  to  bear  in 
mind  her  caution  regarding  the  Rooneys.]  Once  more,  my  dear  boy, 
remember  that  vulgar  people  are  a  part  of  our  trials  in  this  life.  As 
that  delightful  man,  the  Dean  of  St.  George's,  says,  they  are  snares 
for  our  feet  ;  and  their  subservient  admiration  of  us  is  a  dangerous 
and  a  subtle  temptation.  Read  this  letter  again,  and  believe  me,  my 
dearest  John, 

Your  affectionate  and  unhappy  mother, 

Charlotte  Hinton. 

I  shall  not  perform  so  vmdutif ul  a  task  as  to  play  the 
critic  on  my  excellent  mother's  letter.  There  were,  it  is 
true,  many  new  views  of  life  presented,  to  me  by  its  perusal, 
and  I  should  feel  sadly  puzzled  were  I  to  say  at  which  I 
was  more  amused  or  shocked,  —  at  the  strictness  of  her 
manners,  or  the  laxity  of  her  morals ;  but  I  confess  that 
the  part  which  most  outraged  me  of  all  was  the  eulogy  on 
Lord  Dudley  de  Vere's  conversational  gifts.  But  a  few 
short  months  before,  and  it  is  possible  I  should  not  only 
have  credited  but  concurred  in  the  opinion ;  brief,  however, 
as  had  been  the  interval,  it  had  shown  me  much  of  life ;  it 
had  brought  me  into  acquaintance,  and  even  intimacy,  with 
some  of  the  brightest  spirits  of  the  clay ;  it  had  taught  me 
to  discriminate  between  the  unmeaning  jargon  of  conven- 
tional gossip  and  the  charm  of  a  society  where  force  of 
reasoning,  warmth  of  eloquence,  and  brilliancy  of  wit  con- 
tested for  the  palm  ;  it  had  made  me  feel  that  the  intel- 
lectual gifts  reserved  in  other  countries  for  the  personal 


THE  LETTER-BAG.  19 

advancement  of  their  owner  by  their  public  and  ostentatious 
display,  can  be  made  the  ornament  and  the  delight  of  the 
convivial  board,  the  elegant  accompaniment  to  the  hours  of 
happy  intercourse,  and  the  strongest  bond  of  social  union. 
So  gradually  had  this  change  of  opinion  crept  over  me  that 
I  did  not  recognize  in  myself  the  conversion ;  and  indeed 
had  it  not  been  for  my  mother's  observations  on  Lord  Dud- 
ley, I  could  not  have  credited  how  far  my  convictions  had 
gone  round.  I  could  now  understand  the  measurement  by 
which  Irishmen  were  estimated  in  the  London  world.  I 
could  see  that  if  such  a  character  as  De  Vere  had  a  reputa- 
tion for  ability,  how  totally  impossible  it  was  for  those  who 
appreciated  him  to  prize  the  great  and  varied  gifts  of  such 
men  as  Grattan  and  Curran,  and  many  more. 

Lost  in  such  thoughts,  I  forgot  for  some  moments  that 
O'Grady's  letter  lay  open  before  me.  It  was  dated  Chat- 
ham, and  written  the  night  before  he  sailed.  The  first  few 
lines  showed  me  that  he  knew  nothing  of  my  duel,  having 
only  received  my  own  letter  with  an  account  of  the  steeple- 
chase. He  wrote  in  high  spirits.  The  commander-in-chief 
had  been  most  kind  to  him,  appointing  him  to  a  vacant 
majority,  —  not,  as  he  anticipated,  in  the  Forty-first,  but  in 
the  Ninth  Light  Dragoons. 

"  I  am  anxiously  looking  out  for  Corny,"  said  he,  "and  a  great 
letter-bag  from  Ireland,  —  the  only  bit  of  news  from  which,  except 
your  own,  is  that  the  Rooneys  have  gone  into  deep  mourning,  them- 
selves and  their  whole  house.  Various  rumors  are  afloat  as  to 
whether  any  money  speculations  of  Paul's  may  have  suggested  the 
propriety  of  retrenchment,  or  whether  there  may  not  have  been  a 
death  in  the  royal  family  of  O'Toole.  Look  to  this  for  me,  Hinton  ; 
for  even  in  Canada  I  shall  preserve  the  memory  of  that  capital  house, 
its  excellent  cuisine,  its  charming  hostess.  Cultivate  them,  my  dear 
Jack,  for  your  sake  and  for  mine.  One  Rembrandt  is  as  good  as  a 
gallery  ;  so  sit  down  before  them,  and  make  a  study  of  the  family." 

The  letter  concluded  as  it  began,  by  hearty  thanks  for 
the  service  I  had  rendered  him,  begging  me  to  accept  of 
Moddiridderoo  as  a  souvenir  of  his  friendship, — and  in  a 
postscript,  to  write  which  the  letter  had  evidently  been  re- 


20 


JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


opened,  was  a  warning  to  me  against  any  chance  collision 
with  Ulick  Burke. 

"  Not,  my  dear  boy,  because  he  is  a  dead  shot,  —  although  that 
same  is  something,  —  but  that  a  quarrel  with  him  could  scarcely  be 
reputable  in  its  commencement,  and  must  be  bad  whatever  the 
result." 

After  some  further  cautioning  on  this  matter,  the  justice 
of  which  was  tolerably  evident  from  my  own  experience, 
0' Grady  concluded  with  a  hurried  postscript :  — 

"  Corny  has  not  yet  arrived,  and  we  have  received  our  orders  for 
embarkation  within  twenty-four  hours.  I  begin  half  to  despair  of 
his  being  here  in  time.  Should  this  be  the  case,  will  you,  my  dear 
Hinton,  look  after  the  old  villain  for  me,  at  least  until  I  write  to  you 
again  on  the  subject  ? " 


While  I  was  yet  pondering  on 
these  last  few  lines,  I  perceived 
that  a  card  had  fallen  from  my 
father's  letter.  I  took  it  up,  and 
what  was  my  astonishment  to 
find  that  it  contained  a  correct 
likeness  of  Corny  Delany,  drawn 
with  a  pen,  underneath  which 
was  written,  in  my  cousin  Julia's 
hand,  the  following  few  lines  :  — 

The  dear  old  thing  has  waited  three 
days,  and  I  think  I  have  at  length 
caught  something  like  him.  Dear 
Jack,  if  the.  master  be  only  equal  to 
the  man,  we  shall  never  forgive  you 
for  not  letting  us  see  him. 

Yours,  Julia. 


This,  of  course,  explained  the  secret  of  Corny's  delay,  — 
my  cousin,  with  her  habitual  wilfulness,  preferring  the  in- 
dulgence of  a  caprice  to  anything  resembling  a  duty  ;  and  I 
now  had  little  doubt  upon  my  mind  that  0' Grady's  fears 


THE   LETTER-BAG.  21 

were  well  founded,  and  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  sail 
without  his  follower. 

The  exertion  it  cost  rne  to  read  my  letters,  and  the  ex- 
citement produced  by  their  perusal,  fatigued  and  exhausted 
me,  and  as'  I  sank  back  upon  my  pillow  I  closed  my  eyes 
and  fell  sound  asleep,  not  to  wake  until  late  on  the  follow- 
ing day.  But  strange  enough,  when  I  did  so,  it  was  with  a 
head  clear  and  faculties  collected,  my  mind  refreshed  by 
rest  unbroken  by  a  single  dream  ;  and  so  restored  did  I 
feel,  that,  save  in  the  debility  from  long  confinement  to 
bed,  I  was  unconscious  of  any  sense  of  malady. 

From  this  hour  my  recovery  dated.  Advancing  every 
day  with  rapid  steps,  my  strength  increased ;  and  before  a 
week  elapsed,  I  so  far  regained  my  lost  health  that  I  could 
move  about  my  chamber,  and  even  lay  plans  for  my 
departure. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BOB    MAHON    AND    THE    WIDOW. 

It  was  about  eight  or  ten  days  after  the  events  I  have 
mentioned,  when  Father  Tom  Loftus,  whose  care  and  atten- 
tion to  me  had  been  unceasing  throughout,  came  in  to  in- 
form me  that  all  the  preparations  for  our  journey  were 
properly  made,  and  that  by  the  following  morning  at 
sunrise  we  should  be  on  the  road. 

I  confess  that  I  looked  forward  to  my  departure  with 
anxiety.  The  dreary  monotony  of  each  day,  spent  either 
in  perambulating  my  little  room  or  in  a  short  walk  up  and 
down  before  the  inn-door,  had  done  more  to  depress  and 
dispirit  me  than  even  the  previous  illness.  The  good 
priest,  it  is  true,  came  often  to  see  me  ;  but  then  there  were 
hours  spent  quite  alone,  without  the  solace  of  a  book  or  the 
sight  of  even  a  newspaper.  I  knew  the  face  of  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  in  the  village ;  I  could  tell  their  haunts, 
their  habits,  and  their  occupations.  Even  the  very  hours 
of  the  tedious  day  were  marked  in  my  mind  by  various 
little  incidents,  that  seemed  to  recur  with  unbroken  pre- 
cision; and  if  when  the  pale  apothecary  disappeared  from 
over  the  half-door  of  his  shop  I  knew  that  he  was  engaged 
at  his  one  o'clock  dinner,  so  the  clink  of  the  old  ladies'  pat- 
tens, as  they  passed  to  an  evening  tea,  told  me  that  the  day 
was  waning,  when  the  town-clock  should  strike  seven. 
There  was  nothing  to  break  the  monotonous  jog-trot  of 
daily  life  save  the  appearance  of  a  few  raw  subalterns,  who, 
from  some  cause  or  other  less  noticed  than  others  of  the 
regiment  by  the  neighboring  gentry,  strolled  about  the 
town,  quizzing  and  laughing  at  the  humble  town's  folk,  and 


BOB   MAHON  AND  THE   WIDOW.  23 

endeavoring,  by  looks  of  most  questionable  gallantry,  to  im- 
press the  female  population  with  a  sense  of  their  merits. 

After  all,  mankind  is  pretty  much  the  same  in  every 
country  and  every  age,  —  some  men  ambitioning  the  credit 
of  virtues  the  very  garb  of  which  they  know  not ;  others, 
and  a  large  class  too,  seeking  for  the  reputation  of  vices  the 
world  palliates  with  the  appellation  of  "  fashionable."  We 
laugh  at  the  old  courtier  of  Louis  XIV.'s  time,  who  in  the 
flattery  of  the  age  he  lived  in  preferred  being  called  a  scel4- 
rat,  an  infdme  scelerat,  that  by  the  excesses  he  professed 
the  vicious  habits  of  the  sovereign  might  seem  less  strik- 
ing; and  yet  we  see  the  very  same  thing  under  our  own 
eyes  every  day  we  live. 

But  to  return.  There  was  nothing  to  delay  me  longer  at 
Loughrea.  Poor  Joe  was  so  nearly  recovered  that  in  a 
few  days  more  it  was  hoped  he  might  leave  his  bed.  He 
was  in  kind  hands,  however,  and  I  had  taken  every  pre- 
caution that  he  should  want  for  nothing  in  my  absence.  I 
listened,  then,  with  pleasure  to  Father  Tom's  detail  of  all 
his  preparations  ;  and  although  I  knew  not  whither  we 
were  going,  nor  how  long  the  journey  was  likely  to  prove, 
yet  I  looked  forward  to  it  with  pleasure,  and  only  longed 
for  the  hour  of  setting  out. 

As  the  evening  drew  near,  I  looked  anxiously  out  for  the 
good  father's  coming.  He  had  promised  to  come  in  early 
with  Major  Mahon,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  the  two  days 
previous,  —  the  major  being  deeply  engaged  in  consulta- 
tions with  his  lawyer  regarding  an  approaching  trial  at  the 
assizes.  Although  I  could  gather  from  his  manner,  as  well 
as  from  the  priest's,  that  something  of  moment  impended, 
yet  as  neither  of  them  more  than  alluded  to  the  circum- 
stance, I  knew  nothing  of  what  was  going  forward. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  when  Father  Tom  made  his  appear- 
ance. He  came  alone,  and  by  his  flurried  look  and  excited 
manner  I  saw  there  was  something  wrong. 

"  What  is  it,  Father  ?  "  said  I.    "  Where  is  the  major  ?  " 

"  Och,  confound  him  !  they  have  taken  him  at  last,"  said 
he,  wiping  his  forehead  with  agitation. 


24  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Taken  him  !  "  said  I.     "  Why,  was  he  hiding  ?  " 

"  Hiding  !  to  be  sure  he  was  hiding,  and  masquerading 
and  disguising  himself !  But,  faith,  those  Clare  fellows, 
there  's  no  coming  up  to  them  ;  they  have  such  practice  in 
their  own  county,  they  would  take  the  devil  himself  if  there 
was  a  writ  out  against  him.  And,  to  be  sure,  it  was  a  clever 
trick  they  played  old  Bob." 

Here  the  good  priest  took  such  a  fit  of  laughing  that  he 
was  obliged  to  wipe  his  eyes. 

"  May  I  never,"  said  he,  "  if  it  was  n't  a  good  turn  they 
played  him,  after  what  he  did  himself  !  " 

"  Come,  Father,  let 's  hear  it." 

"  This  was  the  way  of  it.  Maybe  you  never  remarked  — 
of  course  you  did  n't,  for  you  were  only  up  there  a  couple  of 
times  —  that  opposite  Bob's  lodgings  there  was  a  mighty 
sweet-looking  crayture,  a  widow-woman ;  she  was  dressed 
in  very  discreet  black,  and  had  a  sorrowful  look  about 
her  that  somehow  or  other,  I  think,  made  her  even  more 
interesting. 

" '  I  'd  like  to  know  that  widow,'  said  Bob  ;  '  for  now 
that  the  fellows  have  a  warrant  against  me,  I  could  spend 
my  days  so  pleasantly  over  there,  comforting  and  consoling 
her.' 

"  '  Whisht,'  said  I,  '  don't  you  see  that  she  is  in  grief  ? ' 

" '  Not  so  much  in  grief,'  said  he,  '  but  she  lets  down  two 
beautiful  braids  of  her  brown  hair  under  her  widow's  cap  ; 
and  whenever  you  see  that,  Father  Tom,  take  my  word  for 
it,  the  game  's  not  up.' 

"  I  believe  there  was  some  reason  in  what  he  said,  for  the 
last  time  I  went  up  to  see  him  he  had  the  window  open, 
and  he  was  playing  '  Planxty  Kelly '  with  all  his  might  on 
an  old  fiddle ;  and  the  widow  would  come  now  and  then  to 
the  window  to  draw  the  little  muslin  curtain,  or  she  would 
open  it  to  give  a  half-penny  to  the  beggars,  or  she  would 
hold  out  her  hand  to  see  if  it  was  raining,  —  and  a  beauti- 
ful lily-white  hand  it  was  ;  but  all  the  time,  you  see,  it  was 
only  exchanging  looks  they  were.  Bob  was  a  little  ashamed 
when  he  saw  me  in  the  room,  but  he  soon  recovered. 


BOB  MA  HON  AND  THE  WIDOW.  25 

" '  A  very  charming  woman  that  Mrs.  Moriarty  is,'  said 
he,  closing  the  window.  'It's  a  cruel  pity  that  her  for- 
tune is  all  in  the  Grand  Canal  —  I  mean  Canal  debentures. 
But  indeed  it  comes  pretty  much  to  the  same  thing.' 

"  And  so  he  went  on  raving  about  the  widow ;  for  by  thi8 
time  he  knew  all  about  her.  Her  maiden-name  was  Cassidy, 
and  her  father  a  distiller ;  and,  in  fact,  Bob  was  quite 
delighted  with  his  beautiful  neighbor.  At  last  I  bid  him 
good-by,  promising  to  call  for  him  at  eight  o'clock  to  come 
over  here  to  you  ;  for  you  see  there  was  a  back-door  to  the 
house  that  led  into  a  small  alley,  by  which  Mahon  used  to 
make  his  escape  in  the  evening.  He  was  sitting,  it  seems, 
at  his  window,  looking  out  for  the  widow,  who  for  some 
cause  or  oi,her  hadn't  made  her  appearance  the  entire  of 
the  day.  There  he  sat  with  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  a 
heavenly  smile  upon  him  for  a  good  hour,  sipping  a  little 
whiskey-and-water  between  times,  to  keep  up  his  courage. 

" '  She  must  be  out,'  said  Bob  to  himself.  '  She 's  gone 
to  pass  the  day  somewhere.  I  hope  she  does  n't  know  any 
of  those  impudent  vagabonds  up  at  the  barracks.  Maybe, 
after  all,  it 's  sick  she  is.' 

"  While  he  was  ruminating  this  way,  who  should  he  see 
turn  the  corner  but  the  widow  herself.  There  she  was, 
coming  along  in  deep  weeds,  with  her  maid  after  her  —  a 
fine  slashing-looking  figure,  rather  taller  than  her  though, 
and  lustier  every  way ;  but  it  was  the  first  time  he  saw  her 
in  the  streets.  As  she  got  near  to  her  door,  Bob  stood  up 
to  make  a  polite  bow.  Just  as  he  did  so,  the  widow  slipped 
her  foot,  and  fell  down  on  the  flags  with  a  loud  scream. 
The  maid  ran  up,  endeavoring  to  assist  her,  but  she  couldn't 
stir ;  and  as  she  placed  her  hand  on  her  leg,  Bob  perceived 
at  once  she  had  sprained  her  ankle.  Without  waiting  for 
his  hat,  he  sprang  downstairs,  and  rushed  across  the  street. 

"  Mrs.  Moriarty,  my  angel ! '  said  Bob,  putting  his  arm 
round  her  waist.     '  Won't  you  permit  me  to  assist  you  ?  ' 

"  She  clasped  his  hand  with  fervent  gratitude,  while  the 
maid,  putting  her  hand  into  her  reticule,  seemed  fumbling 
for  a  handkerchief. 


\ 

26  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"'I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  ma'am/  said  Bob;  'but  if 
Major  Mahon,  of  the  Koscommon — ' 

" '  The  very  man  we  want ! '  said  the  maid,  pulling  a  writ 
out  of  the  reticule ;  for  a  devil  a  thing  else  they  were  but 
two  bailiffs  from  Ennis. 

" '  The  very  man  we  want ! '  said  the  bailiffs. 

"'lam  caught ! '  said  Bob. 

"  <  The  devil  a  doubt  of  it ! ' 

"  At  the  same  moment  the  window  opened  overhead,  and 
the  beautiful  widow  looked  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

"  '  Good  evening  to  you,  ma'am,'  says  Bob ;  '  and  I  'd  like 
to  pay  my  respects  if  I  was  n't  particularly  engaged  to 
these  ladies  here.'  And  with  that  he  gave  an  arm  to  each 
of  them  and  led  them  down  the  street,  as  if  it  was  his 
mother  and  sister." 

"  The  poor  major !  "  said  I.     "  And  where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"On  his  way  to  Ennis  in  a  post-chaise;  for  it  seems  the 
ladies  had  a  hundred  pounds  for  their  capture.  Ah,  poor 
Bob !  But  there  is  no  use  fretting ;  besides  it  would  be 
sympathy  thrown  away,  for  he  '11  give  them  the  slip  before 
long.  And  now,  Captain,  are  you  ready  for  the  road  ?  I 
have  got  a  peremptory  letter  from  the  bishop,  and  must  be 
back  in  Murranakilty  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"  My  dear  father,  I  am  at  your  disposal.  I  believe  we 
can  do  no  more  for  poor  Joe ;  and  as  to  Mr.  Burke,  —  and, 
by-the-bye,  how  is  he  ?  " 

"  Getting  better,  they  say.  But  I  believe  you  've  spoiled 
a  very  lucrative  source  of  his  income.  He  was  the  best 
jumper  in  the  west  of  Ireland ;  and  they  tell  me  you  've 
lamed  him  for  life.  He  is  down  at  Milltown,  or  Kilkee, 
or  somewhere  on  the  coast ;  but  sure  we  '11  have  time 
enough  to  talk  of  these  things  as  we  go  along.  I  '11  be 
with  you  by  seven  o'clock.  We  must  start  early,  and  get 
to  Portumna  before  night." 

Having  promised  implicit  obedience  to  the  worthy  priest's 
directions,  be  they  what  they  might,  I  pledged  myself  to 
make  up  my  luggage  in  the  smallest  possible  space,  and 
have  breakfast  ready  for  him  before  starting.     After  a  few 


BOB  MAHON  AND  THE  WIDOW.  27 

other  observations  and  some  suggestions  as  to  the  kind  of 
equipment  he  deemed  suitable  to  the  road,  he  took  his  leave, 
and  I  sat  down  alone  to  a  little  quiet  reckoning  with  myself 
as  to  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future. 

From  -my  short  experience  of  Ireland,  the  only  thing 
approaching  to  an  abstract  principle  I  could  attain  to  was 
the  utter  vanity,  the  perfect  impossibility,  of  any  man's 
determining  on  a  given  line  of  action  or  the  steady  pursuit 
of  any  one  enterprise.  No ;  the  inevitable  course  of  fate 
seems  to  have  chosen  this  happy  island  to  exhibit  its 
phenomena.  Whether  your  days  be  passed  in  love  or  war, 
or  your  evenings  in  drink  or  devotion,  not  yours  be  the 
glory ;  for  there  would  seem  to  be  a  kind  of  headlong  in- 
fluence at  work,  impelling  you  ever  forward.  Acquaint- 
ances grow  up,  ripen,  and  even  bear  fruit  before  in  other 
lands  their  roots  would  have  caught  the  earth ;  by  them 
your  tastes  are  regulated,  your  habits  controlled,  your  ac- 
tions fashioned.  You  may  not,  it  is  true,  lisp  in  the  patois 
of  blarney ;  you  may  weed  your  phraseology  of  its  tropes 
and  figures ;  but  trust  me,  that  if  you  live  in  Ireland,  if 
you  like  the  people  (and  who  does  not?),  and  if  you  are 
liked  by  them  (and  who  would  not  be  ?),  then  do  I  say  you 
will  find  yourself,  without  knowing  or  perceiving  it,  going 
the  pace  with  the  natives,  —  courtship,  fun,  frolic,  and 
devilment  filling  up  every  hour  of  your  day,  and  no  incon- 
siderable portion  of  your  night  also.  One  grand  feature  of 
the  country  seemed  to  me,  that,  no  matter  what  particular 
extravagance  you  were  addicted  to,  no  matter  what  strange 
or  absurd  passion  to  do  or  seem  something  remarkable,  you 
were  certain  of  always  finding  some  one  to  sympathize 
with  if  not  actually  to  follow  you.  Nothing  is  too  strange, 
nothing  too  ridiculous,  nothing  too  convivial,  nothing  too 
daring  for  Paddy.  With  one  intuitive  bound  he  springs 
into  your  confidence  and  enters  into  your  plans.  Only  be 
open  with  him,  conceal  nothing,  and  he  's  yours  heart  and 
hand ;  ready  to  indorse  your  bill,  to  carry  off  a  young  lady, 
or  carry  a  message ;  to  burn  a  house  for  a  joke,  or  jeopardy 
his  neck  for  mere  pastime ;  to  go  to  the  world's  end  to  serve 


28  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

you,  and  on  his  return  shoot  you  afterwards  out  of  down 
right  good-nature. 

As  for  myself,  I  might  have  lived  in  England  to  the  age 
of  Methuselah,  and  yet  never  have  seen  as  much  of  life  as 
in  the  few  months  spent  in  Ireland.  Society  in  other  lands 
seems  a  kind  of  free-masonry,  where  for  lack  of  every  real 
or  important  secret  men  substitute  sigus  and  pass-words,  as 
if  to  throw  the  charm  of  mystery  where,  after  all,  nothing 
lies  concealed ;  but  in  Ireland,  where  national  character 
runs  in  a  deep  or  hidden  channel,  with  cross  currents  and 
back-water  ever  turning  and  winding,  —  where  all  the  in- 
congruous and  discordant  elements  of  what  is  best  and 
worst  seem  blended  together,  —  there,  social  intercourse  is 
free,  cordial,  warm,  and  benevolent.  Men  come  together 
disposed  to  like  one  another  ;  and  what  an  Irishman  is  dis- 
posed to,  he  usually  has  a  way  of  effecting.  My  brief  career 
had  not  been  without  its  troubles ;  but  who  would  not  have 
incurred  such,  or  as  many  more,  to  have  evoked  such  kind 
interest  and  such  warm  friendship  ?  From  Phil  O'Grady 
my  first,  to  Father  Tom  my  last,  friend  I  had  met  with 
nothing  but  almost  brotherly  affection  ;  and  yet  I  could  not 
help  acknowledging  to  myself,  that,  but  six  short  months 
before,  I  would  have  recoiled  from  the  friendship  of  the 
one  and  the  acquaintance  of  the  other,  as  something  to 
lower  and  degrade  me.  Not  only  would  the  outward  observ- 
ances of  their  manner  have  deterred  me,  but  in  their  very 
warm  and  earnest  proffers  of  good-nature,  I  would  have  seen 
cause  for  suspecting  and  avoiding  them.  Thank  Heaven ! 
I  now  knew  better,  and  felt  deeper.  How  this  revolution 
became  effected  in  me  I  am  not  myself  aware.  Perhaps  — 
I  only  say  perhaps  —  Miss  Bellew  had  a  share  in  effect- 
ing it. 

Such  were  some  of  my  thoughts  as  I  betook  myself  to 
bed,  and  soon  after  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    PRIEST'S    GIG. 

I  am  by  no  means  certain  that  the  prejudices  of  my 
English  education  were  sufficiently  overcome  to  prevent  my 
feeliug  a  kind  of  tingling  shame  as  I  took  my  place  beside 
Father  Tom  Loftus  in  his  gig.  Early  as  it  was,  there  were 
still  some  people  about ;  and  I  cast  a  hurried  glance  around 
to  see  if  our  equipage  was  not  as  much  a  matter  of  amuse- 
ment to  them  as  of  affliction  to  me. 

When  Father  Tom  first  spoke  of  his  "  dennet,"  I  inno- 
cently pictured  to  myself  something  resembling  the  indi- 
genous productions  of  Loughrea.  "  A  little  heavy  or  so," 
thought  I ;  "  strong  for  country  roads ;  mayhap  somewhat 
clumsy  in  the  springs,  and  not  over-refined  about  the  shafts." 
Heaven  help  my  ignorance !  I  never  fancied  a  vehicle  whose 
component  parts  were  two  stout  poles,  surmounting  a  pair 
of  low  wheels,  high  above  which  was  suspended,  on  two 
lofty  C  springs,  the  body  of  an  ancient  buggy,  —  the  lining 
of  a  bright  scarlet,  a  little  faded  and  dimmed  by  time,  bor- 
dered by  a  lace  of  the  most  gaudy  pattern ;  a  flaming  coat- 
of-arms,  with  splended  blazonry  and  magnificent  quarterings, 
ornamented  each  panel  of  this  strange-looking  tub,  into 
which,  for  default  of  steps,  you  mounted  by  a  ladder. 

"  Eh,  Father,"  said  I,  "  what  have  we  here  ?  This  is 
surely  not  the  —  " 

"  Ay,  Captain,"  said  the  good  priest,  as  a  smile  of  proud 
satisfaction  curled  his  lip,  "  that 's  '  the  convaniency  ; '  and 
a  pleasanter  and  an  easier  never  did  man  sit  in.  A  little 
heavy,  to  be  sure ;  but  then  one  can  always  walk  up  the 
hills  ;  and  if  they're  very  stiff  ones  entirely,  why  it 's  only 
throwing  out  the  ballast." 


30  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  The  ballast !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Just  them,"  said  he,  pointing  with  his  whip  to  some 
three  or  four  huge  pieces  of  lime-stone  rock  that  lay  in  the 
bottom  of  the  gig ;  "  there 's  seven,  maybe  eight,  stone 
weight,  every  pound  of  it." 

"  And  for  Heaven's  sake,"  said  I,  "  why  do  you  carry 
that  mass  of  rubbish  along  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  '11  just  tell  you  then.  The  road  has  holes  in  it  you 
could  bury  your  father  in  ;  and  when  the  convaniency  gets 
into  one  of  them,  she  has  a  way  of  springing  up  into  the 
air,  that,  if  you  're  not  watching,  is  sure  to  pitch  you  out,  — 
maybe  into  the  bog  at  the  side,  maybe  on  the  beast's  back. 
I  was  once  actually  thrown  into  a  public-house  window, 
where  there  was  a  great  deal  of  fun  going  on,  and  the 
bishop  came  by  before  I  extricated  myself.  I  assure  you  I 
had  hard  work  to  explain  it  to  his  satisfaction."  There  was 
a  lurking  drollery  in  his  eye,  as  he  said  these  last  few 
words,  that  left  me  to  the  full  as  much  puzzled  about  the 
accident  as  his  worthy  diocesan.  "  But  look  at  the  springs," 
he  continued  ;  "  there  's  metal  for  you  !  And  do  you  mind 
the  shape  of  the  body  ?  It 's  for  all  the  world  like  the 
ancient  curriculus.  And  look  at  Bathershin  himself,  —  the 
ould  varmint !  Sure,  he 's  classical  too !  Has  n't  he  a 
Roman  nose ;  and  ain't  I  a  Roman  myself  ?  So  get  up, 
Captain,  — ascend  it  e  ad  currum  ;  get  into  the  shay.  And 
now  for  the  doch  an  dhurras,  —  the  stirrup-cup,  Mrs. 
Doolan  :  that 's  the  darlin'.     Ah,  there 's  nothing  like  it ! 

"  '  Sit  mihi  lagena, 
Ad  summum  plena.' 

Here,  Captain,  take  a  pull,  —  beautiful  milk-punch ! " 

Draining  the  goblet  to  the  bottom,  which  I  confess  was 

no  unpleasant  task,  I  pledged  my  kind  hostess,  who,  courte- 

sying  deeply,  refilled  the  vessel  for  Father  Tom. 

'•'  That 's  it,  Mary ;  froth  it  up,  aeushla !     Hand  it  here, 

my  darlin',  —  my  blessing  on  ye." 

As  he  spoke,  the  worthy  father  deposited  the  reins  at  his 

feet,  and   lifted   the  cup  with  both  hands  to   his  mouth ; 


JNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE  PRIEST'S  GIG.  31 

when  suddenly  the  little  window  over  the  inn-door  was 
burst  open,  and  a  loud  tally-ho  was  shouted  out,  in  accents 
the  wildest  I  ever  listened  to.  I  had  barehy  time  to  catch 
the  merry  features  of  poor  Tipperary  Joe,  when  the  priest's 
horse,  more  accustomed  to  the  hunting-held  than  the  high- 
road, caught  up  the  welcome  sound,  gave  a  wild  toss  of  his 
head,  cocked  up  his  tail,  and,  with  a  hearty  bang  of  both 
hind  legs  against  the  front  of  the  chariot,  set  off  down  the 
street  as  if  the  devil  were  after  him.  Feeling  himself  at 
liberty,  as  well  as  favored  by  the  ground,  which  was  all 
down  hill,  the  pace  was  really  terrific.  It  was  some  time 
before  I  could  gather  up  the  reins,  as  Father  Tom,  jug  and 
all,  had  been  thrown  at  the  first  shock  on  his  knees  to  the 
bottom  of  the  convaniency,  where,  half  suffocated  by  fright 
and  the  milk-punch  that  went  wrong  with  him,  he  bellowed 
and  coughed  with  all  his  might. 

"  Howld  him  tight !  —  ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !  —  not  too  hard ; 
don't  chuck  him  for  the  love  of  —  ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !  —  the 
reins  is  rotten  and  the  traces  no  better  —  ugh,  ugh,  ugh ! 
Bad  luck  to  the  villains,  why  didn't  they  catch  his  head  ? 
And  the  stultus  execrabilis  !  —  the  damned  fool!  how  he 
yelled  ! " 

Almost  fainting  with  laughter,  I  pulled  my  best  at  the 
old  horse,  not,  however,  neglecting  the  priest's  caution 
about  the  frailty  of  the  harness.  This,  however,  was  not 
the  only  difficulty  I  had  to  contend  with ;  for  the  curriculus, 
participating  in  the  galloping  action  of  the  horse,  swung  up- 
wards and  downwards,  backwards  and  forwards,  and  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  —  all  at  once  too,  —  in  a  manner  so 
perfectly  addling  that  it  was  not  before  we  reached  the  first 
turnpike  that  I  succeeded  in  arresting  our  progress.  Here 
a  short  halt  was  necessary  for  the  priest  to  recover  himself, 
and  to  examine  whether  either  his  bones  or  any  portion  of 
the  harness  had  given  way.  Both  had  happily  been  found 
proof  against  mishaps,  and  drew  from  the  reverend  father 
strong  encomiums  upon  their  merits  ;  and  after  a  brief  de- 
lay we  resumed  our  road,  but  at  a  much  more  orderly  and 
becoming  pace  than  before. 


32  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Once  more  en  route,  I  bethought  me  it  was  high  time  to 
inquire  about  the  direction  we  were  to  travel,  and  the  prob- 
able length  of  our  journey ;  for  I  confess  I  was  sadly  igno- 
rant as  to  the  geography  of  the  land  we  were  travelling, 
and  the  only  point  I  attempted  to  keep  in  view  was  the 
number  of  miles  we  were  distant  from  the  capital.  The 
priest's  reply  was,  however,  anything  but  instructive  to  me, 
consisting  merely  of  a  long  catalogue  of  names,  in  which  the 
syllables  " kill,"  " whack,"  " nock,"  "shock,"  and  "bally" 
jostled  and  elbowed  one  another  in  the  rudest  fashion  ima- 
ginable,—  the  only  intelligible  portion  of  his  description 
being,  that  a  blue  mountain  scarcely  perceptible  in  the 
horizon  lay  about  half-way  between  us  and  Murranakilty. 

My  attention  was  not,  however,  permitted  to  dwell  on 
these  matters  ;  for  my  companion  had  already  begun  a  nar- 
rative of  the  events  which  had  occurred  during  my  illness. 
The  Dillons,  I  found,  had  left  for  Dublin  soon  after  my 
mishap.  Louisa  Bellew  returned  to  her  father;  and  Mr. 
Burke,  whose  wound  had  turned  out  a  more  serious  affair 
than  was  at  first  supposed,  was  still  confined  to  his  bed, 
and  a  lameness  for  life  anticipated  as  the  inevitable  result 
of  the  injury. 

"  Sir  Simon,  for  once  in  his  life,"  said  the  priest,  "  has 
taken  a  correct  view  of  his  nephew's  character,  and  has, 
now  that  all  danger  to  life  is  past,  written  him  a  severe  let- 
ter, reflecting  on  his  conduct.  Poor  Sir  Simon !  his  life  has 
been  one  tissue  of  trial  and  disappointment  throughout. 
Every  buttress  that  supported  his  venerable  house  giving 
way,  one  by  one,  the  ruin  seems  to  threaten  total  downfall, 
ere  the  old  man  exchanges  the  home  of  his  fathers  for  his 
last  narrow  rest  beside  them  in  the  churchyard.  Betrayed 
on  every  hand,  wronged,  and  ruined,  he  seems  merely  to 
linger  on  in  life, — like  the  stern-timbers  of  some  mighty 
wreck,  that  marks  the  spot  where  once  the  goodly  vessel 
perished,  and  are  now  the  beacon  of  the  quicksand  to  others. 
You  know  the  sad  story,  of  course,  that  I  alluded  to  —  " 

"  No ;  I  am  completely  ignorant  of  the  family  history," 
said  I. 


THE  PRIEST'S  GIG.  33 

The  priest  blushed  deeply,  as  his  dark  eyebrows  met  in  a 
heavy  frown ;  then  turning  hastily  towards  me,  he  said,  in  a 
voice  whose  thick,  low  utterance  bespoke  his  agitation,  — 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  I  beseech  you,  to  speak  further  of  what, 
had  I  been  more  collected,  I  had  never  alluded  to !  An 
unhappy  duel,  the  consequence  of  a  still  more  unhappy 
event,  has  blasted  every  hope  in  life  for  my  poor  friend. 
I  thought  —  that  is,  I  feared  lest  the  story  might  have 
reached  you.  As  I  find  this  is  not  so,  you  will  spare  my 
recurring  to  that  the  bare  recollection  of  which  comes  like 
a  dark  cloud  over  the  happiest  day  of  my  existence.  Prom- 
ise me  this,  or  I  shall  not  forgive  myself." 

I  readily  gave  the  pledge  he  required ;  and  we  pursued 
our  road,  —  not,  however,  as  before,  but  each  sunk  in  his 
own  reflections,  silent,  reserved,  and  thoughtful. 

"  In  about  four  days,"  said  Father  Tom,  at  last  breaking 
the  silence,  "  perhaps  five,  we  '11  be  drawing  near  Murrana- 
kilty."  He  then  proceeded,  at  more  length,  to  inform  me 
of  the  various  counties  through  which  we  were  to  pass,  de- 
tailing with  great  accuracy  the  several  seats  we  should  see, 
the  remarkable  places,  the  ruined  churches,  the  old  castles, 
and  even  the  very  fox-covers  that  lay  on  our  route.  And 
although  my  ignorance  was  but  little  enlightened  by  the 
catalogue  of  hard  names  that  fell  as  glibly  from  his  tongue  as 
Italian  from  a  Roman,  yet  I  was  both  entertained  and  pleased 
with  the  many  stories  he  told,  —  some  of  them  legends  of 
bygone  days,  some  of  them  the  more  touching  and  truth- 
dealing  records  of  what  had  happened  in  his  own  time. 
Could  I  have  borrowed  any  portion  of  his  narrative  power, 
were  I  able  to  present  in  his  strong  but  simple  language  any 
of  the  curious  scenes  he  mentioned,  I  should  perhaps  ven- 
ture on  relating  to  my  reader  one  of  his  stories ;  but  when  I 
think  how  much  of  the  interest  depended  on  his  quaint  and 
homely  but  ever  forcible  manner,  as,  pointing  with  his  whip 
to  some  ruined  house  with  blackened  walls  and  fallen  chim- 
neys, he  told  some  narrative  of  rapine  and  of  murder,  I  feel 
how  much  the  force  of  reality  added  power  to  a  story  that 
in  repetition  might  be  weak  and  ineffective. 

VOL.  II.  —  3 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    MOUNTAIN    PASS. 

On  the  whole,  the  journey  was  to  me  a  delightful  one, 
and  certainly  not  the  least  pleasant  portion  of  my  life  in 
Ireland.  Endowed  —  partly  from  his  individual  gifts, 
partly  from  the  nature  of  his  sacred  functions  —  with  in- 
fluence over  all  the  humble  ranks  in  life,  the  good  priest 
jogged  along  with  the  assurance  of  a  hearty  welcome  wher- 
ever he  pleased  to  halt,  —  the  only  look  of  disappointment 
being  when  he  declined  some  proffered  civility,  or  refused 
an  invitation  to  delay  his  journey.  The  chariot  was  well 
known  in  every  town  and  village,  and  scarcely  was  the 
rumble  of  its  wheels  heard  coming  up  the  "street"  when 
the  population  might  be  seen  assembling  in  little  groups 
and  knots,  to  have  a  word  with  "the  father,"  to  get  his 
blessing,  to  catch  his  eye,  or  even  obtain  a  nod  from  him. 
He  knew  every  one  and  everything,  and  with  a  tact  which 
is  believed  to  be  the  prerogative  of  royalty,  he  never  mis- 
called a  name  nor  mistook  an  event.  Inquiring  after  them, 
for  soul  and  body,  he  entered  with  real  interest  into  all 
their  hopes  and  plans,  their  fears  and  anticipations,  and 
talked  away  about  pigs,  penances,  purgatory,  and  potatoes 
in  a  way  that  showed  his  information  on  any  of  these 
matters  to  be  of  no  mean  or  common  order. 

By  degrees  our  way  left  the  more  travelled  high-road, 
and  took  by  a  mountain  tract  through  a  wild,  romantic  line 
of  country  beside  the  Shannon.  No  villages  now  presented 
themselves,  and  indeed  but  little  trace  of  any  habitation 
whatever ;  large  misshapen  mountains,  whose  granite  sides 
were  scarce  concealed  by  the  dark  fern,  the  only  vegetation 
that  clothed  them,  rose  around  and  about  us.     In  the  val- 


THE   MOUNTAIN  PASS.  35 

leys  some  strips  of  bog  might  be  seen,  with  little  hillocks 
of  newly-cut  turf,  the  only  semblance  of  man's  work  the 
eye  could  rest  on.  Tillage  there  was  none.  A  dreary 
silence,  too,  reigned  throughout.  I  listened  in  vain  for  the 
bleating'  of  a  lamb  or  the  solitary  tinkle  of  a  sheep-bell ; 
but  no,  — save  the  cawing  of  the  rooks  or  the  mournful  cry 
of  the  plover,  I  could  hear  nothing.  ISTow  and  then,  it  is 
true,  the  heavy  flapping  of  a  strong  wing  would  point  the 
course  of  a  heron  soaring  towards  the  river ;  but  his  low 
flight  even  spoke  of  solitude,  and  showed  he  feared  not 
man  in  his  wild  and  dreamy  mountains.  At  intervals  we 
could  see  the  Shannon  winding  along,  far,  far  down  below 
us,  and  I  could  mark  the  islands  in  the  bay  of  Scariff,  with 
their  ruined  churches  and  one  solitary  tower ;  but  no  sail 
floated  on  the  surface,  nor  did  an  oar  break  the  sluggish 
current  of  the  stream.  It  was,  indeed,  a  dreary  scene,  and 
somehow  my  companion's  manner  seemed  colored  by  its  in- 
fluence ;  for  scarcely  had  we  entered  the  little  valley  that 
led  to  this  mountain  track  than  he  became  silent  and 
thoughtful,  absorbed  in  reflection,  and  when  he  spoke,  either 
doing  so  at  random  or  in  a  vague  and  almost  incoherent 
way  that  showed  his  ideas  were  wandering. 

I  remarked  that  as  we  stopped  at  a  little  forge  shortly 
after  daybreak,  the  smith  had  taken  the  priest  aside  and 
whispered  to  him  a  few  words,  at  which  he  seemed  strangely 
moved ;  and  as  they  spoke  together  for  some  moments  in 
an  undertone,  I  perceived  by  the  man's  manner  and  gesture, 
as  well  as  by  the  agitation  of  the  good  father  himself,  that 
something  of  importance  was  being  told.  "Without  waiting 
to  finish  the  little  repair  to  the  carriage  which  had  caused 
our  halt,  he  remounted  hastily,  and  beckoning  me  to  take 
my  place,  drove  on  at  a  pace  that  spoke  of  haste  and  eager- 
ness. I  confess  that  my  curiosity  to  know  the  reason  was 
great ;  but  as  I  could  not  with  propriety  ask,  nor  did  my 
companion  seem  disposed  to  give  the  information,  I  soon 
relapsed  into  a  silence  unbroken  as  his  own,  and  we  trav- 
elled along  for  some  miles  without  speaking.  Now  and 
then  the  priest  Avould  make  an  effort  to  relieve  the  weari- 


36  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ness  of  the  way  by  some  remark  upon  the  scenery,  or  some 
allusion  to  the  wild  grandeur  of  the  pass  ;  but  it  was  plain 
he  spoke  only  from  constraint,  and  that  his  mind  was  occu- 
pied on  other  and  very  different  thoughts. 

It  was  now  wearing  late,  and  yet  no  trace  of  any  house 
or  habitation  could  I  see,  where  to  rest  for  the  night.  Not 
wishing,  however,  to  interrupt  the  current  of  my  friend's 
thoughts  I  maintained  my  silence,  straining  my  eyes  on 
every  side,  —  from  the  dark  mountains  that  towered  above 
me,  to  the  narrow  gloomy  valley  that  lay  several  hundred 
feet  beneath  our  track,  —  but  all  in  vain.  The  stillness  was 
unbroken,  and  not  a  roof,  not  even  a  smoke-wreath,  could 
be  seen  far  as  the  view  extended.  The  road  by  which  we 
travelled  was  scarped  from  the  side  of  a  mountain,  and  for 
some  miles  pursued  a  gradually  descending  course.  On  sud- 
denly turning  the  angle  of  a  rocky  wall  that  skirted  us  for 
above  a  mile,  we  came  in  sight  of  a  long  reach  of  the  Shan- 
non upon  which  the  sun  was  now  setting  in  all  its  golden 
lustre.  The  distant  shore  of  Munster,  rich  in  tillage  and 
pasture-land,  was  lit  up  too  with  cornfield  and  green 
meadow,  leafy  wood  and  blue  mountain,  all  glowing  in 
their  brightest  hue.  It  was  a  vivid  and  a  gorgeous  pic- 
ture, and  I  could  have  looked  on  it  long  with  pleasure, 
when  suddenly  I  felt  my  arm  grasped  by  a  strong  finger. 
I  turned  round,  and  the  priest,  relaxing  his  hold,  pointed 
down  into  the  dark  valley  below  us,  as  he  said  in  a  low  and 
agitated  voice,  — 

"  You  see  the  light  ?  It  is  there  —  there." 
Quickening  our  pace  by  every  effort,  we  began  rapidly  to 
descend  the  mountain  by  a  zig-zag  road,  whose  windings 
soon  lost  us  the  view  I  have  mentioned,  and  left  nothing 
but  the  wild  and  barren  mountains  around  us.  Tired  as 
our  poor  horse  was,  the  priest  pressed  him  forward ;  and 
regardless  of  the  broken  and  rugged  way  he  seemed  to  think 
of  nothing  but  his  haste,  muttering  between  his  teeth  with 
a  low  but  rapid  articulation,  while  his  face  grew  flushed 
and  pale  at  intervals,  and  his  eye  had  all  the  lustrous  glare 
and  restless  look  of  fever.     I  endeavored,  as  well  as  I  was 


THE    MOUNTAIN   PASS.  37 

able,  to  occupy  my  mind  with  other  thoughts;  but  with  that 
invincible  fascination  that  turns  us  ever  to  the  side  we  try 
to  shun,  I  found  myself  again  and  again  gazing  on  my  com- 
panion's countenance.  Every  moment  now  his  agitation  in- 
creased y  his  lips  were  firmly  closed,  his  brow  contracted, 
his  cheek  flattened  and  quivering  with  a  nervous  spasm, 
while  his  hand  trembled  violently  as  he  wiped  the  big  drops 
of  sweat  that  rolled  in  agony  from  his  forehead. 

At  last  we  reached  the  level,  where  a  better  road  pre- 
sented itself  before  us,  and  enabled  us  so  to  increase  our 
speed  that  we  were  rapidly  coining  up  with  the  light,  which, 
as  the  evening  closed  in,  seemed  larger  and  brighter  than 
before.  It  was  now  that  hour  when  the  twilight  seems  fad- 
ing into  night,  —  a  gray  and  sombre  darkness  coloring  every 
object,  but  yet  marking  grass  and  rock,  pathway  and  river, 
with  some  seeming  of  their  noonday  hues,  so  that  as  we 
came  along  I  could  make  out  the  roof  and  walls  of  a  mud 
cabin  built  against  the  very  mountain-side,  in  the  gable  of 
which  the  light  was  shining.  A  rapid,  a  momentary  thought 
flashed  across  my  mind  as  to  what  dreary  and  solitary  man 
could  fix  his  dwelling-place  in  such  a  spot  as  this,  when 
in  an  instant  the  priest  suddenly  pulled  up  the  horse, 
and,  stretching  out  one  hand  with  a  gesture  of  listening, 
whispered,  — 

"  Hark  !     Did  you  not  hear  that  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  a  cry,  wild  and  fearful,  rose  through  the 
gloomy  valley, — at  first  in  one  prolonged  and  swelling 
note ;  then  broken  as  if  by  sobs,  it  altered,  sank,  and  rose 
again  wilder  and  madder,  till  the  echoes,  catching  up  the 
direful  sounds,  answered  and  repeated  them  as  though  a 
chorus  of  unearthly  spirits  were  calling  to  one  another 
through  the  air. 

"  0  God  !  too  late  —  too  late  ! "  said  the  priest,  as  he 
bowed  his  face  upon  his  knees,  and  his  strong  frame  shook 
in  agony.  "  0  Father  of  mercy  ! "  he  cried,  as  he  lifted 
his  eyes,  bloodshot  and  tearful,  toward  heaven,  "forgive 
me  this ;  and  if  unshriven  before  Thee  —  " 

Another  cry,  more  frantic  than  before,  here  burst  upon 


38  JACK   HLN'TON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

us,  and  the  priest,  muttering  with  rapid  utterance,  appeared 
lost  in  prayer.  But  at  him  I  looked  no  longer,  lor  straight 
before  us  on  the  road,  and  in  front  of  the  little  cabin,  now 
not  above  thirty  paces  from  us,  knelt  the  figure  of  a  woman, 
whom,  were  it  not  for  the  fearful  sounds  we  had  heard,  one 
could  scarce  believe  a  thing  of  life.  Her  age  was  not  more 
than  thirty  years  ;  she  was  pale  as  death  ;  not  a  tinge,  not 
a  ray  of  color  streaked  her  bloodless  cheek ;  her  black  hair, 
long  and  wild,  fell  upon  her  back  and  shoulders,  straggling 
and  disordered ;  while  her  hands  were  clasped,  as  she  held 
her  stiffened  arms  straight  before  her.  Her  dress  bespoke 
the  meanest  poverty,  and  her  sunken  cheek  and  drawn-in 
lips  betokened  famine  and  starvation.  As  I  gazed  on  her 
almost  breathless  with  awe  and  dread,  the  priest  leaped 
out,  and  hurrying  forward,  called  out  to  her  in  Irish ;  but 
she  heard  him  not,  she  saw  him  not,  —  dead  to  every  sense, 
she  remained  still  and  motionless.  No  feature  trembled, 
no  limb  was  shaken ;  she  knelt  before  us  like  an  image  of 
stone ;  and  then,  as  if  by  some  spell  that  worked  within 
her,  once  more  gave  forth  the  heart-rending  cry  we  heard 
at  first.  Now  low  and  plaintive,  like  the  sighing  night- 
wind,  it  rose  fuller  and  fuller,  pausing  and  continuing  at 
intervals  ;  and  then  breaking  into  short  and  fitful  efforts,  it 
grew  wilder  and  stronger,  till  at  last  with  one  outbreak, 
like  the  overflowing  of  a  heart  of  misery,  it  ceased 
abruptly. 

The  priest  bent  over  her  and  spoke  to  her ;  he  called  her 
by  her  name,  and  shook  her  several  times,  — but  all  in  vain. 
Her  spirit,  if  indeed  present  with  her  body,  had  lost  all 
sympathy  with  things  of  earth. 

"  God  help  her  !  "  said  he ;  "  God  comfort  her  !  This  is 
sore  affliction." 

As  he  spoke  he  walked  towards  the  little  cabin,  the  door 
of  which  now  stood  open.  All  was  still  and  silent  within 
its  walls.  Unused  to  see  the  dwellings  of  the  poor  in  Ire- 
land, my  eye  ranged  over  the  bare  walls,  the  damp  and 
earthen  floor,  the  few  and  miserable  pieces  of  furniture, 
when  suddenly  my  attention  was  called  to  another  and  a 


THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS.  39 

sadder  spectacle.  In  one  corner  of  the  hovel,  stretched 
upon  a  bed  whose  poverty  might  have  made  it  unworthy  of 
a  dog  to  lie  in,  lay  the  figure  of  a  large  and  powerfully- 
built  man,  stone  dead.  His  eyes  were  closed,  his  chin 
bound  up  with  a  white  cloth,  and  a  sheet,  torn  and  ragged, 
was  stretched  above  his  cold  limbs,  while  on  either  side  of 
him  two  candles  were  burning.  His  features,  though  rigid 
and  stiffened,  were  manly  and  even  handsome, — the  bold 
character  of  the  face  heightened  in  effect  by  his  beard  and 
mustache,  which  appeared  to  have  been  let  grow  for  some 
time  previous,  and  whose  black  and  waving  curl  looked 
darker  from  the  pallor  around  it.  Some  lines  there  were 
about  the  mouth  that  looked  like  harshness  and  severity, 
but  the  struggle  of  departing  life  might  have  caused  them. 

Gently  withdrawing  the  sheet  that  covered  him,  the 
priest  placed  his  hand  upon  the  man's  heart.  It  was  evi- 
dent to  me,  from  the  father's  manner,  that  he  still  believed 
the  man  living ;  and  as  he  rolled  back  the  covering,  he  felt 
for  his  hand.  Suddenly  starting,  he  fell  back  for  an  in- 
stant ;  and  as  he  moved  his  fingers  backwards  and  for- 
wards, I  saw  that  they  were  covered  with  blood.  I  drew 
near,  and  now  perceived  that  the  dead  man's  chest  was  laid 
open  by  a  wound  of  several  inches  in  extent.  The  ribs  had 
been  cut  across,  and  some  portion  of  the  heart  or  lung 
seemed  to  protrude.  At  the  slightest  touch  of  the  body, 
the  blood  gushed  forth  anew,  and  ran  in  streams  upon  him. 
His  right  hand,  too,  was  cut  across  the  entire  palm,  the 
thumb  nearly  severed  at  the  joint.  This  appeared  to  have 
been  rudely  bound  together;  but  it  was  evident,  from  the 
nature  and  the  size  of  the  other  wound,  that  he  could  not 
have  survived  it  many  hours. 

As  I  looked  in  horror  at  the  frightful  spectacle  before 
me,  my  foot  struck  at  something  beneath  the  bed.  I 
stooped  down  to  examine,  and  found  it  was  a  carbine,  such 
as  dragoons  usually  carry.  It  was  broken  at  the  stock  and 
bruised  in  many  places,  but  still  seemed  not  unserviceable. 
Part  of  the  butt-end  was  also  stained  with  blood.  The 
clothes  of  the  dead  man,  clotted  and  matted  with  gore,  were 


40  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

also  there,  adding  by  their  terrible  testimony  to  the  dread- 
ful fear  that  haunted  me.  Yes,  everything  confirmed  it,  — 
murder  and  crime  had  been  there. 

A  low,  muttering  sound  near  made  me  turn  my  head,  and 
I  saw  the  priest  kneeling  beside  the  bed,  engaged  in  prayer. 
His  head  was  bare,  and  he  wore  a  kind  of  scarf  of  blue  silk, 
and  the  small  case  that  contained  the  last  rites  of  his 
Church  was  placed  at  his  feet.  Apparently  lost  to  all 
around,  save  the  figure  of  the  man  that  lay  dead  before 
him,  he  muttered  with  ceaseless  rapidity  prayer  after 
prayer,  —  stopping  ever  and  anon  to  place  his  hand  on  the 
cold  heart,  or  to  listen  with  his  ear  upon  the  livid  lips  ;  and 
then  resuming  with  greater  eagerness,  while  the  big  drops 
rolled  from  his  forehead,  and  the  agonizing  torture  he  felt 
convulsed  his  entire  frame. 

"0  God  !r'  he  exclaimed,  after  a  prayer  of  some  minutes, 
in  which  his  features  worked  like  one  in  a  fit  of  epilepsy,  — 
"  0  God,  is  it  then  too  late  ?  " 

He  started  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke,  and  bending  over 
the  corpse,  with  hands  clasped  above  his  head,  he  poured 
forth  a  whole  torrent  of  words  in  Irish,  swaying  his  body 
backwards  and  forwards,  as  his  voice,  becoming  broken  by 
emotion,  now  sank  into  a  whisper,  or  broke  into  a  discord- 
ant shout.  "  Shaun,  Shaun !  "  cried  he,  as,  stooping  down 
to  the  ground,  he  snatched  up  the  little  crucifix  and  held  it 
before  the  dead  man's  face ;  at  the  same  time  he  shook  him 
violently  by  the  shoulder,  and  cried,  in  accents  I  can  never 
forget,  some  words  aloud,  among  which  alone  I  could  recog- 
nize one  word,  "  Thea,"  —  the  Irish  word  for  God.  He 
shook  the  man  till  his  head  rocked  heavily  from  side  to 
side,  and  the  blood  oozed  from  the  opening  wound,  and 
stained  the  ragged  covering  of  the  bed. 

At  this  instant  the  priest  stopped  suddenly,  and  fell 
upon  his  knees,  while  with  a  low,  faint  sigh  he  who  seemed 
dead  lifted  his  eyes  and  looked  around  him  ;  his  hands 
grasped  the  sides  of  the  bed,  and,  with  a  strength  that 
seemed  supernatural,  he  raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture. 
His  lips  were  parted  and  moved,  but  without  a  sound,  and 


THE   MOUNTAIN  PASS.  41 

his  filmy  eyes  turned  slowly  in  their  sockets  from  one 
object  to  another,  till  at  length  they  fell  upon  the  little  cru- 
cifix that  had  dropped  from  the  priest's  hand  upon  the  bed. 
In  an  instant  the  corpse-like  features  seemed  inspired  with 
life ;  a  gleam  of  brightness  shot  from  his  eyes ;  the  head 
nodded  forward  a  couple  of  times,  and  I  thought  I  heard  a 
discordant,  broken  sound  issue  from  the  open  mouth ;  but 
a  moment  after  the  head  dropped  upon  the  chest,  and  the 
hands  relaxed,  and  he  fell  back  with  a  crash,  never  to 
move  more. 

Overcome  with  horror,  I  staggered  to  the  door  and  sank 
upon  a  little  bench  in  front  of  the  cabin.  The  cool  air  of 
the  night  soon  brought  me  to  myself,  and  while  in  my  con- 
fused state  I  wondered  if  the  whole  might  not  be  some 
dreadful  dream,  my  eyes  once  more  fell  upon  the  figure  of 
the  woman,  who  still  knelt  in  the  attitude  we  had  first  seen 
her.  Her  hands  were  clasped  before  her,  and  from  time  to 
time  her  wild  cry  rose  into  the  air  and  woke  the  echoes  of 
that  silent  valley.  A  faint  moonlight  lay  in  broken  patches 
around  her,  and  mingled  its  beams  with  the  red  glare  of 
the  little  candles  within,  as  their  light  fell  upon  her  marble 
features.  From  the  cabin  I  could  hear  the  sounds  of  the 
priest's  voice,  as  he  continued  to  pray  without  ceasing. 

As  the  hours  rolled  on,  nothing  changed ;  and  when, 
prompted  by  curiosity,  I  looked  within  the  hovel,  I  saw  the 
priest  still  kneeling  beside  the  bed,  his  face  pale  and  sunk 
and  haggard,  as  though  months  of  sickness  and  suffering 
had  passed  over  him.  I  dared  not  speak  ;  I  dared  not  dis- 
turb him ;  and  I  sat  down  near  the  door  in  silence. 

It  is  one  of  the  strange  anomalies  of  our  nature  that  the 
feelings  which  rend  our  hearts  with  agony  have  a  tendency, 
by  their  continuance,  to  lull  us  into  slumber.  The  watcher 
by  the  bedside  of  his  dying  friend,  the  felon  in  his  cell  but 
a  few  hours  before  death,  sleep,  —  and  sleep  soundly.  The 
bitterness  of  grief  would  seem  to  blunt  sensation,  and  the 
mind,  like  the  body,  can  only  sustain  a  certain  amount  of 
burden,  after  which  it  succumbs  and  yields.  So  I  found  it 
amid  this  scene  of  horror  and  anguish,  with  everything  to 


42  JACK  HLNTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

excite  that  can  operate  upon  the  mind,  —  the  woman 
stricken  motionless  and  senseless  by  grief ;  the  dead  man, 
as  it  were,  recalled  to  life  by  the  words  that  were  to  herald 
him  into  life  everlasting;  the  old  man,  whom  I  had  known 
but  as  a  gay  companion,  displayed  now  before  my  eyes  in 
all  the  workings  of  his  feeling  heart,  called  up  by  the  afflic- 
tions of  one  world  and  the  terrors  of  another,  —  and  this  in 
a  wild  and  dreary  valley,  far  from  man's  dwelling.  Yet 
amid  all  this,  and  more  than  all,  the  harassing  conviction 
that  some  deed  of  blood,  some  dark  hour  of  crime,  had  been 
here  at  work,  perhaps  to  be  concealed  forever,  and  go  un- 
avenged save  of  Heaven,  —  with  this  around  and  about  me, 
I  slept.  How  long  I  know  not ;  but  when  I  woke,  the  mist 
of  morning  hung  in  the  valley,  or  rolled  in  masses  of  cloud- 
like vapor  along  the  mountain-side.  In  an  instant  the 
whole  scene  of  the  previous  night  was  before  me,  and  the 
priest  still  knelt  beside  the  bed  and  prayed.  I  looked  for 
the  woman,  but  she  was  gone. 

The  noise  of  wheels,  at  some  distance,  could  now  be 
heard  on  the  mountain-road;  and  as  I  walked  stealthily 
from  the  door,  I  could  see  three  figures  descending  the  pass, 
followed  by  a  car  and  horse.  As  they  came  along,  I  marked 
that  beneath  the  straw  on  the  car  something  protruded  it- 
self on  either  side,  and  this,  I  soon  saw,  was  a  coffin.  As 
the  men  approached  the  angle  of  the  road  they  halted,  and 
seemed  to  converse  in  an  eager  and  anxious  manner,  when 
suddenly  one  of  them  broke  from  the  others,  and  springing 
to  the  top  of  a  low  wall  that  skirted  the  road,  continued  to 
look  steadily  at  the  house  for  some  minutes  together.  The 
thought  flashed  on  me  at  the  moment  that  perhaps  my  be- 
ing a  stranger  to  them  might  have  caused  their  hesitation ; 
so  I  waved  my  hat  a  couple  of  times  above  my  head. 
Upon  this  they  resumed  their  march,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
more  were  standing  beside  me.  One  of  them,  who  was  an 
old  man  with  hard,  weather-beaten  features,  addressed  me, 
first  in  Irish,  but  correcting  himself,  at  once  asked,  in  a 
low,  steady  voice,  — 

"  Was  the  priest  in  time  ?     Did  he  get  the  rites  ?  " 


THE   MOUNTAIN  PASS.  43 

I  nodded  in  reply  ;  when  he  muttered,  as  if  to  himself,  — 
"  God's  will  be  done  !     Shaun  did  n't  tell  of  Hogan  —  " 

"  Whisht,  father !  whisht !  "  said  one  of  the  younger  men 
as  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  old  man's  arm,  while  he  added 
something  in  Irish,  gesticulating  with  energy  as  he  spoke. 

"  Is  Mary  come  back,  sir  ?  "  said  the  third,  as  he  touched 
his  hat  to  me  respectfully. 

"The  woman  —  his  wife?"  said  I.  "I  have  not  seen 
her  to-day." 

"  She  was  up  with  us,  at  Kiltimmon,  at  two  o'clock  this 
morning,  but  would  n't  wait  for  us.  She  wanted  to  get  back 
at  once,  poor  crayture  !  She  bears  it  well,  and  has  a  stout 
heart.  Faith,  maybe  before  long  she  '11  make  some  others 
faint  in  their  hearts  that  have  stricken  hers  this  night." 

"  Was  she  calm,  then  ?  "  said  I. 

"  As  you  are  this  minute ;  and  sure  enough  she  helped 
me,  with  her  own  hands,  to  put  the  horse  in  the  car,  for 
you  see  I  could  n't  lift  .the  shaft  with  my  one  arm." 

I  now  saw  that  his  arm  was  bound  up,  and  buttoned 
within  the  bosom  of  his  great-coat. 

The  priest  now  joined  us,  and  spoke  for  several  minutes 
in  Irish  ;  and  although  ignorant  of  all  he  said,  I  could  mark 
in  the  tone  of  his  voice,  his  look,  his  manner,  and  his  gest- 
ure that  his  words  were  those  of  rebuke  and  reprobation. 
The  old  man  heard  him  in  silence,  but  without  any  evi- 
dence of  feeling.  The  others,  on  the  contrary,  seemed 
deeply  affected;  and  the  younger  of  the  two,  whose  arm 
was  broken,  seemed  greatly  moved,  and  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  hardy  cheeks. 

These  signs  of  emotion  were  evidently  displeasing  to  the 
old  man,  whose  nature  was  of  a  sterner  and  more  cruel 
mould ;  and  as  he  turned  away  from  the  father's  admoni- 
tion he  moved  past  me,  muttering,  as  he  went,  — 

"  Is  n't  it  all  fair  ?  Blood  for  blood ;  and  sure  they  dhruv 
him  to  it." 

After  a  few  words  from  the  priest,  two  of  the  party  took 
their  spades  from  the  car,  and  began  digging  the  grave; 
while  "Father  Loftus,  leading  the  other  aside,  talked  to  him 
for  some  time. 


44  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"Be  gorra,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  shovelled  the  earth 
to  either  side,  "Father  Tom  isn't  like  himself,  at  all,  at  all. 
He  used  to  have  pity  and  the  kind  word  for  the  poor  when 
they  were  turned  out  on  the  world  to  starve,  without  as 
much  as  a  sheaf  of  straw  to  lie  upon,  or  potatoes  enough 
for  the  children  to  eat." 

"  Whisht,  father !  or  the  priest  will  hear  ye,"  said  the 
younger  one,  looking  cautiously  around. 

"  Sorrow  bit  o'  me  cares  if  he  does  !  it 's  thruth  I  'm  tell- 
ing. You  are  not  long  in  these  parts,  sir,  av  I  may  make 
so  bowld  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  1  'in  quite  a  stranger." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  ye  may  understand  that  this  is  n't  a  fine 
soil  for  a  potato-garden ;  and  yet  the  devil  a  other  poor 
Shaun  had  since  they  turned  him  out  on  the  road  last 
Michaelmas-day,  himself  and  his  wife  and  the  little  gos- 
soon, —  the  only  one  they  had,  too,  —  with  a  fever  and  ague 
upon  him.  The  poor  child,  however,  didn't  feel  it  long, 
for  he  died  in  ten  days  after.  Well,  well !  the  way  of  God 
there  's  no  saying  against  it.  But,  sure,  if  the  little  boy 
did  n't  die  Shaun  was  off  to  America ;  for  he  tuk  his  pas- 
sage, and  got  a  sea-chest  of  a  friend,  and  was  all  ready  to 
go.  But,  you  see,  when  the  child  died,  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  leave  the  grave ;  and  there  he  used  to  go  and 
spend  half  of  his  days  fixing  it,  and  settling  the  sods  about 
it,  and  would  n't  take  a  day's  work  from  any  of  the  neigh- 
bors. And  at  last  he  went  off  one  night,  and  we  never 
knew  what  was  become  of  him,  till  a  pedler  brought  word 
that  he  and  Mary  was  living  in  the  Cluan  Beg,  away  from 
everybody,  without  a  friend  to  say  '  God  save  you  ! '  —  It 's 
deep  enough  now,  Mickey;  there's  nobody  will  turn  him 
out  of  this.  —  And  so,  sir,  he  might  have  lived  for  many  a 
year ;  but  when  he  heerd  that  the  boys  was  up,  and  going 
to  settle  a  reckoning  with  Mr.  Tarleton  —  " 

"  Come  you,"  cried  the  priest,  who  joined  us  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  who  I  could  perceive  was  evidently  displeased  at 
the  old  man's  communicativeness,  —  "  come,  you,  the  sooner 
you  all  get  back  the  better.    We  must  look  after  Mary,  too; 


THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS.  45 

for  God  knows  where  she  is  wandering.  And  now  let  us 
put  the  poor  boy  in  the  earth." 

With  slow  and  sullen  steps  the  old  man  entered  the  house, 
followed,  by  the  others.  I  did  not  accompany  them,  but 
stood  beside  the  grave,  my  mind  full  of  all  I  heard.  In  a 
few  minutes  they  returned,  carrying  the  coffin,  one  corner  of 
which  was  borne  by  the  priest  himself.  Their  heads  were 
bare,  and  their  features  were  pale  and  care-worn.  They 
placed  the  body  in  the  grave,  and  gazed  down  after  it  for 
some  seconds.  The  priest  spoke  a  few  words,  in  a  low, 
broken  voice,  the  very  sounds  of  which,  though  their  mean- 
ing was  unknown  to  me,  sank  deep  into  my  heart.  He 
whispered  for  an  instant  to  one  of  the  young  men,  who 
went  into  the  cabin  and  speedily  returned,  carrying  with 
him  some  of  the  clothes  of  the  deceased  and  the  old  carbine 
that  lay  beneath  the  bed. 

"Throw  them  in  the  grave,  Mickey, — throw  them  in," 
said  the  priest.     "Where  's  his  coat  ?  " 

"  It  is  n't  there,  sir,"  said  the  man.  "  That 's  everything 
that  has  a  mark  of  blood  upon  it." 

"  Give  me  that  gun,"  cried  the  priest ;  and  at  the  same 
moment  he  took  the  carbine  by  the  end  of  the  barrel,  and 
by  one  stroke  of  his  strong  foot  snapped  it  at  the  breech. 
"  My  curse  be  on  you ! "  said  he,  as  he  kicked  the  fragments 
into  the  grave  ;  "  there  was  peace  and  happiness  in  the  land 
before  men  knew  ye,  and  owned  ye  !  Ah,  Hugh,"  said  he, 
turning  his  eyes  fiercely  on  the  old  man,  "  I  never  said  ye 
had  n't  griefs  and  trials,  and  sore  ones  too,  some  of  them ; 
but  God  help  you,  if  ye  think  that  an  easy  conscience  and 
a  happy  home  can  be  bought  by  murder."  The  old  man 
started  at  the  words,  and  as  his  dark  brow  lowered  and  his 
lip  trembled,  I  drew  near  to  the  priest,  fearful  lest  an  attack 
might  be  made  on  him.  "  Ay,  murder,  boys  !  that 's  the 
word,  and  no  less.  Don't  tell  me  about  righting  yourselves, 
and  blood  for  blood,  and  all  that.  There 's  a  curse  upon 
the  land  where  these  things  happen,  and  the  earth  is  not 
lucky  that  is  moistened  with  the  blood  of  God's  creatures." 

"  Cover  him  up !  cover  him  up !  "  said  the  old  man,  shovel' 


46  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ling  in  the  earth  so  as  to  drown  the  priest's  words,  "  and  let 
us  be  going.  We  ought  to  be  back  by  six  o'clock,  unless," 
added  he  with  a  sarcastic  bitterness  that  made  him  look 
like  a  fiend,  —  "  unless  your  Reverence  is  going  to  set  the 
police  on  our  track." 

"  God  forgive  you,  Hugh,  and  turn  your  heart,"  said  the 
priest,  as  he  shook  his  outstretched  hands  at  the  old  man. 
As  the  father  spoke  these  words  he  took  me  by  the  arm, 
and  led  me  within  the  house.  I  could  feel  his  hand  trem- 
ble as  it  leaned  upon  me,  and  the  big  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks  in  silence. 

We  sat  down  in  the  little  cabin,  but  neither  of  us  spoke. 
After  some  time  we  heard  the  noise  of  the  cart-wheels  and 
the  sound  of  voices,  which  grew  fainter  and  fainter  as  they 
passed  up  the  glen,  and  at  length  all  became  still. 

"  And  the  poor  wife,"  said  I,  "  what,  think  you,  has 
become  of  her  ?  " 

'•  Gone  home  to  her  people,  most  likely,"  answered  the 
priest.  "  Her  misfortunes  will  make  her  a  home  in  every 
cabin.  None  so  poor,  none  so  wretched,  as  not  to  succor 
and  shelter  her.     But  let  us  hence." 

We  walked  forth  from  the  hovel,  and  the  priest  closing 
the  door  after  him  fastened  it  with  a  padlock  that  he  had 
found  within,  and  then,  placing  the  key  upon  the  door-sill, 
he  turned  to  depart;  but  suddenly  stopping,  he  took  my 
hand  in  both  of  his,  and  said,  in  a  voice  of  touching 
earnestness,  — 

"  This  has  been  a  sad  scene.  Would  to  God  you  had 
not  witnessed  it !  Would  to  God,  rather,  that  it  might  not 
have  occurred  !  But  promise  me,  on  the  faith  of  a  man  of 
honor  and  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  that  what  you  have 
seen  this  night  you  will  reveal  to  no  man,  until  I  have 
passed  away  myself,  and  stand  before  that  judgment  to 
which  we  all  are  coming." 

"  I  promise  you  faithfully,"  said  I.  "  And  now  let  us 
leave  a  spot  that  has  thrown  a  gloom  upon  my  heart  which 
a  long  life  will  never  obliterate." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    JOURNEY. 

As  we  issued  from  the  glen  the  country  became  more 
open ;  patches  of  cultivation  presented  themselves,  and 
an  air  of  comfort  and  condition  superior  to  what  we  had 
hitherto  seen  was  observable  in  the  dwellings  of  the  coun- 
try people.  The  road  led  through  a  broad  valley  bounded 
on  one  side  by  a  chain  of  lofty  mountains,  and  on  the 
other  separated  by  the  Shannon  from  the  swelling  hills  of 
Minister.  Deeply  engaged  in  our  thoughts,  we  travelled 
along  for  some  miles  without  speaking.  The  scene  we 
had  witnessed  was  of  that  kind  that  seemed  to  forbid  our 
recurrence  to  it,  save  in  our  own  gloomy  reflections.  We 
had  not  gone  far  when  the  noise  of  horsemen  on  the  road 
behind  us  induced  us  to  turn  our  heads.  They  came  along 
at  a  sharp  trot,  and  we  could  soon  perceive  that  although 
the  two  or  three  foremost  were  civilians,  they  who  followed 
were  dragoons.  I  thought  I  saw  the  priest  change  color 
as  the  clank  of  the  accoutrements  struck  upon  his  ear.  I 
had,  however,  but  little  time  for  the  observation,  as  the 
party  soon  overtook  vis. 

"You  are  early  on  the  road,  gentlemen,"  said  a  strong, 
powerfully-built  man,  who  mounted  upon  a  gray  horse  of 
great  bone  aud  action  rode  close  up  beside  us. 

"  Ah,  Sir  Thomas,  is  it  you  ?  "  said  the  priest,  affecting  at 
once  his  former  easy  and  indifferent  manner.  "I'd  rather 
see  the  hounds  at  your  back  than  those  beagles  of  King 
George  there.     Is  there  anything  wrong  in  the  country  ?  " 

"  Let  me  ask  you  another  question,"  said  the  knight  in 
answer.  "  How  long  have  you  been  in  it,  and  where  did 
you  pass  the  night,  not  to  hear  of  what  has  occurred  ?  " 


48  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Faitli,  a  home  question,"  said  the  priest,  summoning  up 
a  hearty  laugh  to  conceal  his  emotion ;  "  but  if  the  truth 
must  out,  we  came  round  by  the  priory  at  Glenduff,  as  my 
friend  here  being  an  Englishman,  —  may  I  beg  to  present 
him  to  you  ?  Mr.  Hinton,  Sir  Thomas  Garland,  — he  heard 
wonders  of  the  monks'  way  of  living  up  there,  and  I  wished 
to  let  him  judge  for  himself." 

"Ah,  that  accounts  for  it,"  said  the  tall  man  to  himself. 
"We  have  had  a  sad  affair  of  it,  Father  Tom.  Poor 
Tarleton  has  been  murdered." 

"Murdered!"  said  the  priest,  with  an  expression  of 
horror  in  his  countenance  I  could  scarcely  believe  feigned. 

"  Yes,  murdered !  The  house  was  attacked  a  little  after 
midnight.  The  party  must  have  been  a  large  one,  for 
while  they  forced  in  the  hall  door,  the  haggard  and  the 
stables  were  seen  in  a  blaze.  Poor  George  had  just  retired 
to  bed,  a  little  later  than  usual ;  for  his  sons  had  returned 
a  few  hours  before  from  Dublin,  where  they  had  been  to 
attend  their  college  examination.  The  villains,  however, 
knew  the  house  well,  and  made  straight  for  his  room.  He 
got  up  in  an  instant,  and  seizing  a  sabre  that  hung  beside 
his  bed  defended  himself,  with  the  courage  of  desperation, 
against  them  all.  The  scuffle  and  the  noise  soon  brought 
his  sons  to  the  spot,  who,  although  mere  boys,  behaved  in 
the  most  gallant  manner.  Overpowered  at  last  by  num- 
bers, and  covered  with  wounds,  they  dragged  poor  Tarleton 
downstairs,  shouting  out  as  they  went,  '  Bring  him  down 
to  Freney's !  Let  the  bloody  villain  see  the  black  walls 
and  the  cold  hearth  he  has  made,  before  he  dies  ! '  It  was 
their  intention  to  murder  him  on  the  spot  where,  a  few 
weeks  before,  a  distress  for  rent  had  been  executed  against 
some  of  his  tenants.  He  grasped  the  banisters  with  a  de- 
spairing clutch,  while  fixing  his  eyes  upon  his  servant,  who 
had  lived  with  him  for  some  years  past,  he  called  out  to 
him  in  his  agony  to  save  him  ;  but  the  fellow  came  deliber- 
ately forward  and  held  the  flame  of  a  candle  beneath  the 
dying  man's  fingers,  until  he  relaxed  his  hold  and  fell  back 
among  his  murderers.     Yes,  yes,  Father,  Henry  Tarleton 


THE   JOURNEY.  49 

saw  it  with  his  own  eyes,  for  while  his  brother  was  stretched 
senseless  on  the  floor  he  was  struggling  with  the  others  at 
the  head  of  the  staircase ;  and,  strange  enough  too,  they 
never  hurt  the  boys,  but  when  they  had  wreaked  their  ven- 
geance on  the  father,  bound  them  back  to  back,  and  left 
them." 

"Can  they  identify  any  of  them  ?  "  said  the  priest,  with 
intense  emotion  in  his  voice  and  manner. 

"  Scarcely,  I  fear ;  their  faces  were  blackened,  and  they 
wore  shirts  over  their  coats.  Henry  thinks  he  could  swear 
to  two  or  three  of  the  number  ;  but  our  best  chance  of  dis- 
covery lies  in  the  fact  that  several  of  them  were  badly 
wounded,  and  one  in  particular,  whom  he  saw  cut  down  by 
his  father's  sabre,  was  carried  downstairs  by  his  comrades, 
bathed  in  blood." 

"  He  did  n't  recognize  him  ?  "  said  the  priest,  eagerly. 

uXo;  but  here  comes  the  poor  boy,  so  I'll  wish  you 
good-morning." 

He  put  spurs  to  his  horse  as  he  spoke  and  dashed  for- 
ward, followed  by  the  dragoons  ;  while  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  a  young  man  —  pale, 
with  his  dress  disordered,  his  arm  in  a  sling  —  rode  by. 
He  never  turned  a  look  aside  ;  his  filmy  eye  was  fixed, 
as  it  were,  on  some  far-off  object,  and  he  seemed  scarce 
to  guide  his  horse  as  he  galloped  onward  over  the  rugged 
road. 

The  priest  relaxed  his  pace  to  permit  the  crowd  of  horse- 
men to  pass  on,  while  his  countenance  once  more  assumed 
its  drooping  and  despondent  look,  and  he  relapsed  into  his 
former  silence. 

"  You  see  that  high  mountain  to  the  left  there  ?  "  said  he 
after  a  long  pause.  "  Well,  our  road  lies  around  the  foot  of 
it ;  and,  please  God,  by  to-morrow  evening  we  '11  be  some 
five-and-twenty  miles  on  the  other  side,  in  the  heart  of  my 
own  wild  country,  with  the  big  mountains  behind  you,  and 
the  great  blue  Atlantic  rearing  its  frothing  waves  at  your 
feet."  He  stopped  for  an  instant,  and  then  grasping  my 
arm  with  his  strong  hand  continued  in  a  low,  distinct  voice : 

VOL.  II. — 4 


50  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"Never  speak  to  me  nor  question  me  about  what  we  saw 
last  night,  and  try  only  to  remember  it  as  a  dream.  And 
now  let  me  tell  you  how  I  intend  to  amuse  you  in  the  far 
west." 

Here  the  priest  began  a  spirited  and  interesting  descrip- 
tion of  the  scenery  and  the  people,  —  their  habits,  their 
superstitions,  and  their  pastimes.  He  sustained  the  inter- 
est of  his  account  with  legend  and  story,  now  grave,  now 
gay,  —  sometimes  recalling  a  trait  from  the  older  history  of 
the  land  ;  sometimes  detailing  an  incident  of  the  fair  or 
the  market,  but  always  by  his  wonderful  knowledge  of  the 
peasantry,  their  modes  of  thinking  and  reasoning,  and  by 
his  imitation  of  their  figurative  and  forcible  expressions, 
able  to  carry  me  with  him,  whether  he  took  the  moun- 
tain's side  for  his  path,  sat  beside  some  cotter's  turf-fire, 
or  skimmed  along  the  surface  of  the  summer  sea  in  the 
frail  bark  of  an  A  chill  fisherman.  I  learned  from  him 
that  in  the  wild  region  where  he  lived  there  were  above 
fifteen  thousand  persons,  scarce  one  of  whom  could  speak 
or  understand  a  word  of  English.  Of  these  he  was  not 
only  the  priest,  but  the  ruler  and  judge.  Before  him  all 
their  disputes  were  settled,  all  their  differences  reconciled. 
His  word,  in  the  strongest  sense  of  the  phrase,  was  law,  — - 
not  indeed  to  be  enforced  by  bayonets  and  policemen,  by 
constables  and  sheriffs'  officers,  but  which  in  its  moral  force 
demanded  obedience,  and  would  have  made  him  who  re- 
sisted it  an  outcast  among  his  fellows. 

"  We  are  poor,"  said  the  priest,  "  but  we  are  happy. 
Crime  is  unknown  among  us,  and  the  blood  of  man  has 
not  been  shed  in  strife  for  fifty  years  within  the  barony. 
When  will  ye  learn  this  in  England  ?  When  will  ye  know 
that  these  people  may  be  led,  but  never  driven  ;  that  they 
may  be  persuaded,  but  never  compelled  ?  When  will  ye 
condescend  to  bend  so  far  the  prerogative  of  your  birth, 
3^our  riches,  and  your  rank,  as  to  reason  with  the  poor  and 
humble  peasant  that  looks  up  to  you  for  protection  ?  Alas ! 
my  young  friend,  were  you  to  ask  me  what  is  the  great 
source  of  misery  of  this  unhappy  land,  I  should  tell  you 


THE  JOURNEY.  51 

the  superior  intelligence  of  its  people.  I  see  a  smile,  bul 
hear  me  out.  Unlike  the  peasantry  of  other  countries,  they 
are  not  content.  Their  characters  are  mistaken,  their  traits 
misconstrued,  —  partly  from  indifference,  partly  from  pre- 
judice, and  in  a  great  measure  because  it  is  the  fashion  to 
recognize  in  the  tiller  of  the  soil  a  mere  drudge,  with  scarce 
more  intelligence  than  the  cattle  in  his  plough  or  the  oxen 
in  his  team.  But  here  you  really  have  a  people  quick, 
sharp-sighted,  and  intelligent,  able  to  scan  your  motives 
with  ten  times  the  accuracy  you  can  guess  at  theirs ;  sus- 
picious, because  their  credulity  has  been  abused ;  revenge- 
ful, because  their  wild  nature  knows  no  other  vindicator 
than  their  own  right  arm  ;  lawless,  for  they  look  upon  your 
institutions  as  the  sources  of  their  misery  and  the  instru- 
ments of  your  tyranny  towards  them  ;  reckless,  for  they 
have  nothing  to  lose  ;  indolent,  for  they  have  nothing  to 
gain.  Without  an  effort  to  win  their  confidence  or  secure 
their  good-will,  you  overwhelm  them  with  your  institu- 
tions, cumbrous,  complicated,  and  unsuitable  ;  and  while 
you  neglect  or  despise  all  appeal  to  their  feelings  or  affec- 
tions, you  place  your  faith  in  your  soldiery  or  a  special  com- 
mission. Heaven  help  you  !  you  may  thin  them  off  by  the 
gallows  and  transportation,  but  the  root  of  the  evil  is  as  far 
from  you  as  ever.  You  do  not  know  them,  you  will  not 
know  them ;  more  prone  to  punish  than  prevent,  you  are 
satisfied  with  the  working  of  the  law,  and  not  shocked  with 
the  accumulation  of  crime  ;  and  when,  broken  by  poverty 
and  paralyzed  by  famine,  a  gloomy  desolation  spreads  over 
the  land,  you  meet  in  terms  of  congratulation  to  talk  over 
tranquillized  Ireland." 

In  this  strain  did  the  good  priest  continue  to  develop  his 
views  concerning  his  country,  —  the  pivot  of  his  argument 
being,  that,  to  a  people  so  essentially  different  in  every  re- 
spect, English  institutions  and  English  laws  were  inade- 
quate and  unsuitable.  Sometimes  I  could  not  only  follow 
but  agree  with  him.  At  others  I  could  but  dimly  perceive 
his  meaning  and  dissent  from  the  very  little  I  could  catch. 

Enough  of  this,  however.     In  a  biography  so  flimsy  as 


52  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

mine  politics  would  play  but  an  unseemly  part ;  and  even 
were  it  otherwise,  my  opportunities  were  too  few  and  my 
own  incapacity  too  great  to  make  my  opinions  of  any  value 
on  a  subject  so  complicated  and  so  vast.  Still,  the  topic 
served  to  shorten  the  road,  and  when  towards  evening  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  comfortable  parlor  of  the  little  inn 
at  Ballyhocsousth,1  so  far  had  we  both  regained  our  spirits 
that  once  more  the  priest's  jovial  good-humor  irradiated 
his  happy  countenance ;  and  I  myself,  hourly  improving  in 
health  and  strength,  felt  already  the  bracing  influence  of 
the  mountain  air,  and  that  strong  sense  of  liberty  never 
more  thoroughly  appreciated  than  when  regaining  vigor 
after  the  sufferings  of  a  sick  bed. 

We  were  seated  by  an  open  window,  looking  out  upon 
the  landscape.  It  was  past  sunset,  and  the  tall  shadows  of 
the  mountains  were  meeting  across  the  lake,  like  spirits 
who  waited  for  the  night-hour  to  interchange  their  embraces. 
A  thin  pale  crescent  of  a  new  moon  marked  the  blue  sky, 
but  did  not  dim  the  lustre  of  the  thousand  stars  that  glit- 
tered round  it.  All  was  hushed  and  still,  save  the  deep 
note  of  the  rail,  or  the  measured  plash  of  oars  heard  from  a 
long  distance.  The  rich  meadows  that  sloped  down  to  the 
water  sent  up  their  delicious  odors  in  the  balmy  air,  and 
there  stole  over  the  senses  a  kind  of  calm  and  peaceful 
pleasure  as  such  a  scene  at  such  an  hour  can  alone  impart. 

"This  is  beautiful, — this  is  very  beautiful,  Father," 
said  I. 

"  So  it  is,  sir,"  said  the  priest.  "  Let  no  Irishman 
wander  for  scenery ;  he  has  as  much  right  to  go  travel  in 
search  of  wit  and  good  fellowship.  We  don't  want  for 
blessings  ;  all  we  need  is,  to  know  how  to  enjoy  them. 
And,  believe  me,  there  is  a  plentiful  feast  on  the  table  if 
gentlemen  would  only  pass  down  the  dishes.  And,  now, 
that  reminds  me:  what  are  you  drinking, — negus?  I 
would  n't  wish  it  to  my  greatest  enemy.  But,  to  be  sure.  I 
am  always  forgetting  you  are  not  one  of  ourselves.  There, 
reach  me  over  that  square  decanter.  It  Avould  n't  have 
1  Town  of  the  Fight  of  Flails. 


THE   JOURNEY.  53 

been  so  full  now  if  we  had  had  poor  Bob  here,  —  poor 
fellow  !  But  one  thing  is  certain,  —  wherever  he  is,  he  is 
happy.  I  believe  I  never  told  you  how  he  got  into  his 
present  scrape." 

"  No,  Father ;  and  that 's  precisely  the  very  thing  I  wish 
to  ask  you." 

"  You  shall  hear  it,  and  it  is  n't  a  bad  story  in  its  way. 
But  don't  you  think  the  night  air  is  a  little  too  much  for 
you  ?     Shall  we  close  the  window  ?  " 

"  If  it  depend  on  me,  Father,  pray  leave  it  open." 

"  Ha,  ha !  I  was  forgetting  again,"  said  the  old  fellow, 
laughing  roguishly,  —  "  stella  sunt  amantium  oculi,  as 
Pilaris  says.  There  now,  don't  be  blushing,  but  listen 
to  me. 

"  It  was  somewhere  about  last  November  that  Bob  got  a 
quiet  hint  from  some  one  at  Daly's  that  the  sooner  he  got 
out  of  Dublin  the  more  conducive  it  would  be  to  his  per- 
sonal freedom,  as  various  writs  were  flying  about  the  capi- 
tal after  him.  He  took  the  hint,  and  set  off  the  same  night, 
and  reached  his  beautiful  chateau  of  Newgate  without  let  or 
molestation,  —  which  having  victualled  for  the  winter,  he 
could,  if  necessary,  sustain  in  it  a  reasonable  siege  against 
any  force  the  law  was  likely  to  bring  up.  The  house  had 
an  abundant  supply  of  arms.  There  were  guns  that  figured 
in  '41,  pikes  that  had  done  good  service  a  little  later,  swords 
of  every  shape,  from  the  two-handed  weapon  of  the  twelfth 
century  to  a  Roman  pattern  made  out  of  a  scythe  by  a 
smith  in  the  neighborhood  ;  but  the  grand  terror  of  the 
country  was  an  old  four-pounder  of  Cromwell's  time,  that 
the  major  had  mounted  on  the  roof,  and  whose  effects,  if 
only  proportionately  injurious  to  the  enemy  to  the  results 
nearer  home,  must  indeed  have  been  a  formidable  engine, 
for  the  only  time  it  was  fired,  —  I  believe  to  celebrate  Bob's 
birthday,  —  it  knocked  down  a  chimney  with  the  recoil, 
blew  the  gardener  and  another  man  about  ten  feet  into  the 
air,  and  hurled  Bob  himself  through  a  skylight  into  the 
housekeeper's  room.  No  matter  for  that;  it  had  a  great 
effect  in  raising  the  confidence  of  the  country  people,  some 


54  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

of  whom  verily  believed   that   the  ball  was   rolling  for  a 
week   after. 

"  Bob,  I  say,  victualled  the  fortress  ;  but  he  did  more, 
for  he  assembled  all  the  tenants,  and  in  a  short  but  pithy 
speech  told  them  the  state  of  his  affairs,  explaining  with 
considerable  eloquence  what  a  misfortune  it  would  be  for 
them  if  by  any  chance  they  were  to  lose  him  for  a  landlord. 

" '  See,  now,  boys,'  said  he,  '  there  's  no  knowing  what 
misfortune  would  n't  happen  ye ;  they  'd  put  a  receiver 
on  the  property  —  a  spalpeen  with  bailiffs  and  constables 
after  him  —  that  would  be  making  you  pay  up  the  rent, 
and  faith  I  would  n't  say  but  maybe  he  'd  ask  you  for 
the  arrears.' 

" '  Oh,  murther,  murther !  did  any  one  ever  hear  the 
like ! '  the  people  cried  on  every  side ;  and  Bob,  like  a 
clever  orator,  continued  to  picture  forth  additional  miseries 
and  misfortunes  to  them  if  such  a  calamitous  event  were 
to  happen,  explaining  at  the  same  time  the  contemptible 
nature  of  the  persecution  practised  against  him. 

" '  ]STo,  boys,'  cried  he,  '  there  is  n't  a  man  among  them 
all  that  has  the  courage  to  come  down  and  ask  for  his 
money,  face  to  face ;  but  they  set  up  a  pair  of  fellows  they 
call  John  Doe  and  Richard  Roe,  —  there  's  names  for  you ! 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  gentleman  in  the  country  with 
names  like  that  ?  But  that 's  not  the  worst  of  it,  for  you 
see  even  these  two  chaps  can't  be  found.  It 's  truth  I  'm 
telling  you,  and  some  people  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  there 
is  no  such  people  at  all,  and  it 's  only  a  way  they  have  to 
worry  and  annoy  country  gentlemen  with  what  they  call  a 
fiction  of  the  law ;  and  my  own  notion  is,  that  the  law  is 
nothing  but  lies  and  fiction  from  beginning  to  end.' 

"  A  very  loud  cheer  from  Bob's  audience  proclaimed  how 
perfectly  they  coincided  in  his  opinion ;  and  a  keg  of 
whiskey  being  brought  into  the  lawn,  each  man  drained  a 
glass  to  his  health,  uttering  at  the  same  time  a  determina- 
tion with  respect  to  the  law  officers  of  the  crown  that  boded 
but  little  happiness  to  them  when  they  made  a  tour  in  the 
neighborhood. 


THE  JOURNEY.  55 

"  In  about  a  week  after  this  there  was  a  grand  drawing- 
home  :  that 's,  you  understand,  what  we  call  in  Ireland 
bringing  in  the  harvest.  And  sure  enough,  the  farmyard 
presented  a  very  comely  sight,  with  ricks  of  hay,  and  stacks 
of  corn  and  oats  and  barley,  and  outhouses  full  of  potatoes, 
and  in  fact  everything  the  country  produces,  besides  cows 
and  horses,  sheep,  pigs,  goats,  and  even  turkeys ;  for  most 
of  the  tenants  paid  their  rents  in  kind,  and  as  Bob  was  an 
easy  landlord,  very  few  came  without  a  little  present,  —  a 
game-cock,  a  jackass,  a  ram,  or  some  amusing  beast  or 
other.  Well,  the  next  day,  —  it  was  a  fine  dry  day  with  a 
light  frost,  and  as  the  bog  was  hard,  Bob  sent  them  all 
away  to  bring  in  the  turf.  Why,  then,  but  it  is  a  beautiful 
sight,  Captain,  and  I  wish  you  saw  it,  —  maybe  two  or 
three  hundred  cars  all  going  as  fast  as  they  can  pelt,  on  a 
fine  bright  clay,  Avith  a  blue  sky  and  a  sharp  air,  the  boys 
standing  up  in  the  kishes  driving  without  rein  or  halter, 
always  at  a  gallop,  —  for  all  the  world  like  Ajax,  Ulysses, 
and  the  rest  of  them  that  we  read  of;  and  the  girls,  as 
pretty  craytures  as  ever  you  threw  an  eye  upon,  with  their 
short  red  petticoats,  and  their  hair  plaited  and  fastened 
up  at  the  back  of  their  heads :  on  my  conscience  the  Trojan 
women  was  nothing  to  them ! 

"But  to  come  back.  Bob  Mahon  was  coming  home  from 
the  bog  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  cantering  along 
on  a  little  dun  pony  he  had,  thinking  of  nothing  at  all,  ex- 
cept maybe  the  elegant  rick  of  turf  that  he  'd  be  bringing 
home  in  the  morning,  when  what  did  he  see  before  him  but 
a  troop  of  dragoons,  and  at  their  head  old  Basset,  the  sub- 
sheriff,  and  another  fellow  whose  face  he  had  often  seen  in 
the  Four-courts  of  Dublin.  '  By  the  mortial,'  said  Bob,  '  I 
am  done  for ! '  for  he  saw  in  a  moment  that  Basset  had 
waited  until  all  the  country  people  were  employed  at  a  dis- 
tance, to  come  over  and  take  him.  However,  he  was  no 
ways  discouraged,  but  brushing  his  way  through  the  dra- 
goons, he  rode  up  beside  Basset's  gig,  and  taking  a  long 
pistol  out  of  the  holster,  he  began  to  examine  the  priming 
as  cool  as  may  be. 


56  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  '  How  are  you,  Nick  Basset  ? '  said  Bob ;  '  and  where 
are  you  going  this  evening?' 

"  '  How  are  you,  Major  ? '  said  Basset,  with  his  eye  all 
the  while  upon  the  pistol.  '  It  is  an  unpleasant  business,  a 
mighty  unpleasant  business  to  me,  Major  Bob,'  says  he  ; 
'but  the  truth  is,  there  is  an  execution  against  you,  and 
my  friend  here,  Mr.  Hennessy, — Mr.  Hennessy,  Major 
Mahon,  —  asked  me  to  come  over  with  him,  because  as  I 
knew  you  — ' 

"  '  Well,  well,'  said  Bob,  interrupting  him.  '  Have  you  a 
writ  against  me  ?     Is  it  me  you  want  ? ' 

"  'Nothing  of  the  kind,  Major  Mahon.  God  forbid  we  'd 
touch  a  hair  of  your  head !  It 's  just  a  kind  of  a  capias,  as 
I  may  say,  nothing  more.' 

"  '  And  why  did  you  bring  the  dragoons  with  you  ?  '  said 
Bob,  looking  at  him  mighty  hard. 

"  Basset  looked  very  sheepish,  and  did  n't  know  what  to 
say  ;  but  Mahon  soon  relieved  him,  — 

" '  Never  mind,  Nick,  never  mind ;  you  can't  help  your 
trade.  But  how  would  you  look  if  I  was  to  raise  the 
country  on  ye  ? ' 

"  '  You  would  n't  do  the  like,  Major ;  but  surely,  if  you 
did,  the  troops  — ' 

"  '  The  troops ! '  said  Bob ;  '  God  help  you !  we  'd  be 
twenty,  ay  thirty  to  one.  See  now,  if  I  give  a  whistle,  this 
minute  — ' 

"'Don't  distress  yourself,  Major,' said  Basset,  'for  the 
decent  people  are  a  good  six  miles  off  at  the  bog,  and 
couldn't  hear  you  if  you  whistled  ever  so  loud.' 

"The  moment  he  said  this  Bob  saw  that  the  old  rogue 
was  up  to  him,  and  he  began  to  wonder  within  himself 
what  was  best  to  be  done. 

" '  See  now,  Nick,'  said  he,  '  it  is  n't  like  a  friend  to  bring 
up  all  these  redcoats  here  upon  me,  before  my  tenantry, 
disgracing  me  in  the  face  of  my  people.  Send  them  back 
to  the  town,  and  go  up  yourself  with  Mr.  Hennessy  there, 
and  do  whatever  you  have  to  do.' 

"'No,  no!'  screamed  Hennessy,  'I'll  never  part  with 
the  soldiers ! ' 


THE  JOURNEY.  57 

"'Very  -well,'  said  Bob,  'take  your  own  way,  and  see 
what  will  come  of  it.' 

"  He  put  spurs  to  his  pony  as  he  said  this,  and  was  just 
striking  into  the  gallop  when  Nick  called  out,  — 

"  '  Wait  a  bit,  Major !  wait  a  bit !  If  we  leave  the  dra- 
goons where  we  are  now,  will  you  give  us  your  word  of 
honor  not  to  hurt  or  molest  us  in  the  discharge  of  our  duty, 
nor  let  any  one  else  do  so  ? ' 

"'I  will,'  said  Bob,  'now  that  you  talk  reasonably;  I'll 
treat  you  well.' 

"  After  a  little  parley  it  was  settled  that  part  of  the  dra- 
goons were  to  wait  on  the  road,  and  the  rest  of  them  in  the 
lawn  before  the  house,  while  Nick  and  his  friend  were  to 
go  through  the  ceremony  of  seizing  Bob's  effects,  and  make 
an  inventory  of  everything  they  could  find. 

'"A  mere  matter  of  form,  Major  Mahon,'  said  he.  'We  '11 
make  it  as  short  as  possible,  and  leave  a  couple  of  men  in 
possession ;  and  as  I  know  the  affair  will  be  arranged  in  a 
few  days  — ' 

" '  Of  course,'  says  Bob,  laughing ;  '  nothing  easier.  So 
come  along  now  and  let  me  show  you  the  way.' 

"When  they  reached  the  house,  Bob  ordered  up  dinner 
at  once,  and  behaved  as  politely  as  possible,  telling  them  it 
was  early,  and  they  would  have  plenty  of  time  for  every- 
thing in  the  evening.  But  whether  it  was  that  they  had 
no  appetite  just  then,  or  that  they  were  not  over-easy  in 
their  minds  about  Bob  himself,  they  declined  everything, 
and  began  to  set  about  their  work.  To  it  they  went  with 
pen  and  ink,  putting  down  all  the  chairs  and  tables,  the 
cracked  china,  the  fire-irons,  and  at  last  Bob  left  them 
counting  over  about  twenty  pairs  of  old  top-boots  that 
stood  along  the  wall  of  his  dressing-room. 

"  '  Ned,'  said  Bob  to  his  own  man,  '  get  two  big  padlocks 
and  put  them  on  the  door  of  the  hay-loft  as  fast  as  you  can.' 

"'Sure  it  is  empty,  sir,'  said  Ned.  'Barrin'  the  rats, 
there  's  nothing  in  it.' 

"'Don't  I  know  that  as  well  as  you?'  said  Bob;  'but 
can't  you  do  as  you  are  bid  ?     And  when  you  've  done  it, 


58  JACK    HINTON,   THE   GUAKDSMAN. 

take  the  pony  and  gallop  over  to  the  bog,  and  tell  the  peo- 
ple to  throw  the  turf  out  of  their  carts  and  gallop  up  here 
as  fast  as  they  can.' 

"  He  'd  scarcely  said  it  when  Nick  called  out,  '  Now, 
Major,  for  the  farm-yard,  if  you  please.'  And  so  taking 
Hennessy's  arm,  Bob  walked  out,  followed  by  the  two  big 
bailiffs,  that  never  left  them  for  a  moment.  To  be  sure  it 
was  a  great  sight  when  they  got  outside,  and  saw  all  the 
ricks  and  stacks  as  thick  as  they  could  stand ;  and  so  they 
began  counting  and  putting  them  down  on  paper,  and  the 
devil  a  thing  they  forgot,  not  even  the  boneens  and  the 
bantams ;  and  at  last  Nick  fixed  his  eye  upon  the  little  door 
into  the  loft,  upon  which  now  two  great  big  padlocks  were 
hanging. 

"  '  I  suppose  it 's  oats  you  have  up  there,  Major  ? '  said  he. 

" '  No,  indeed,'  said  Bob,  looking  a  little  confused. 

" '  Maybe  seed-potatoes  ? '  said  Hennessy. 
•     " '  Nor  it  neither,'  said  he. 

" '  Barley,  it 's  likely  ? '  cried  Nick  ;  '  it  is  a  fine  dry  loft.' 
'     "'No,'  said  Bob,  'it  is  empty.' 

"And  with  that  he  endeavored  to  turn  them  away  and 
get  them  back  into  the  house;  but  old  Basset  turned  back, 
and  fixing  his  eye  upon  the  door,  shook  his  head  for  a 
couple  of  minutes. 

" '  Well,'  said  he,  '  for  an  empty  loft  it  has  the  finest  pair 
of  padlocks  I  ever  looked  at.  Would  there  be  any  objec- 
tion, Major,  to  our  taking  a  peep  into  it  ? ' 

" '  None,'  said  Bob ;  '  but  I  have  n't  a  ladder  that  long  in 
the  place.' 

"  '  I  think  this  might  reach,'  said  Hennessy,  as  he  touched 
one  with  his  foot  that  lay  close  along  the  wall,  partly  cov- 
ered with  straw. 

" '  Just  the  thing,'  said  Nick ;  while  poor  Bob  hung  down 
his  head  and  said  nothing.  With  that  they  raised  the 
ladder  and  placed  it  against  the  door. 

"'Might  I  trouble  you  for  the  key,  Major  Mahon ? '  said 
Hennessy. 

" '  I  believe  it  is  mislaid,'  said  Bob,  in  a  kind  of  sulky 


THE  JOURNEY.  59 

way,  at  which  they  both  grinned  at  each  other,  as  much 
as  to  say,  'We  have  him  now.' 

"'You'll  not  take  it  amiss  then,  Major,  if  we  break  the 
door  ? '  said  Kick. 

"  '  You'  may  break  it  and  be  hanged ! '  said  Bob,  as  he 
stuck  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  walked  away. 

" '  This  will  do,'  cried  one  of  the  bailiffs,  taking  up  a  big 
stone  as  he  mounted  the  ladder,  followed  by  Nick,  Hen- 
nessy,  and  the  other. 

"  It  took  some  time  to  smash  the  locks,  for  they  were 
both  strong  ones,  and  all  the  while  Nick  and  his  friend 
were  talking  together  in  great  glee ;  but  poor  Bob  stood 
by  himself  against  a  hay-rick,  looking  as  melancholy  as 
might  be.  At  last  the  locks  gave  way,  and  down  went  the 
door  with  a  bang.  The  bailiffs  stepped  in,  and  then  Nick 
and  the  others  followed.  It  took  them  a  couple  of  minutes 
to  satisfy  themselves  that  the  loft  was  quite  empty ;  but 
when  they  came  back  again  to  the  door,  what  was  their 
surprise  to  discover  that  Bob  was  carrying  away  the  ladder 
upon  his  shoulders  to  a  distant  part  of  the  yard. 

" '  Holloa,  Major ! '  cried  Basset,  '  don't  forget  us  up  here  ! ' 

" '  Devil  a  fear  of  that,'  said  Bob ;  '  few  that  know  you 
ever  forget  you.' 

"  '  We  are  quite  satisfied,  sir,'  said  Hennessy ;  '  what  you 
said  was  perfectly  correct.' 

"  '  And  why  did  n't  you  believe  it  before,  Mr.  Hennessy  ? 
You  see  what  you  have  brought  upon  yourself.' 

" '  You  are  not  going  to  leave  us  up  here,  sir,'  cried  Hen- 
nessy :  '  will  you  venture  upon  false  imprisonment  ?  ' 

"  '  I  'd  venture  on  more  than  that,  if  it  were  needful ;  but 
see  now,  when  you  get  back,  don't  be  pretending  that  I 
did  n't  offer  to  treat  you  well,  little  as  you  deserved  it.  I 
asked  you  to  dinner,  and  would  have  given  you  your  skin- 
full  of  wine  afterwards  ;  but  you  preferred  your  own  dirty 
calling,  and  so  take  the  consequences.' 

"  While  he  was  speaking  a  great  cheer  was  heard,  and  all 
the  country  people  came  galloping  into  the  yard  with  their 
turf  cars. 


60  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

" '  Be  alive  now,  my  boys  ! '  cried  Bob.  '  How  many  cars 
have  you  ? ' 

"  '  Seventy,  sir,  here  ;  but  there  is  more  coming.' 

"  '  That  '11  do,'  said  he  ;  'so  now  set  to  work  and  carry 
away  all  the  oats  and  the  wheat,  the  hay,  barley,  and  pota- 
toes. Let  some  of  you  take  the  calves  and  the  pigs,  and  drive 
the  bullocks  over  the  mountain  to  Mr.  Bodkin's.  Don't 
leave  a  turkey  behind  you,  boys,  and  make  haste ;  for  these 
gentlemen  have  so  many  engagements  I  can  scarcely  pre- 
vail on  them  to  pass  more  than  a  day  or  two  amongst  us.' 

"Bob  pointed  as  he  spoke  to  the  four  figures  that  stood 
trembling  at  the  hay -loft  door.  A  loud  cheer,  and  a  roar  of 
laughter  to  the  full  as  loud,  answered  his  speech ;  and  at 
the  same  moment  to  it  they  went,  loading  their  cars  with 
the  harvest  or  the  live-stock  as  fast  as  they  could.  To  be 
sure,  such  a  scene  was  never  witnessed,  —  the  cows  bleat- 
ing, pigs  grunting,  fowls  cackling,  men  and  women  all  run- 
ning here  and  there  laughing  like  mad,  and  Nick  Basset 
himself  swearing  like  a  trooper  the  whole  time  that  he  'd 
have  them  all  hanged  at  the  next  assizes.  Would  you  be- 
lieve, the  harvest  it  took  nearly  three  weeks  to  bring  home 
was  carried  away  that  night  and  scattered  all  over  the  coun- 
try at  different  farms,  where  it  never  could  be  traced ;  all  the 
cattle  too  were  taken  away,  and  before  sunrise  there  was  n't 
as  much  as  a  sheep  or  a  lamb  left  to  bleat  on  the  lawn. 

"  The  next  day  Bob  set  out  on  a  visit  to  a  friend  at  some 
distance,  leaving  directions  with  his  people  to  liberate  the 
gentlemen  in  the  hay-loft  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon. 
The  story  made  a  great  noise  in  the  country ;  but  before 
people  were  tired  laughing  at  it  an  action  was  entered 
against  Bob  for  false  imprisonment,  and  heavy  damages 
awarded  against  him.  So  that  you  may  see  there  was  a 
kind  of  poetic  justice  in  the  manner  of  his  capture,  for 
after  all  it  was  only  trick  for  trick." 

The  worthy  priest  now  paused  to  mix  another  tumbler, 
which,  when  he  had  stirred  and  tasted  and  stirred  again,  he 
pushed  gently  before  him  on  the  table,  and  seemed  lost  in 
reverie. 


THE   JOURNEY. 


61 


"  Yes,"  said  he  half  aloud,  "  it  is  a  droll  country  we  live 
in  ;  and  there 's  not  one  of  us  does  n't  waste  more  ingenuity 
and  display  more  cunning  in  getting  rid  of  his  fortune  than 
the  cleverest  fellows  elsewhere  evince  in  accumulating  theirs. 
But  you  are  looking  a  little  pale,  I  think ;  these  late  hours 
won't  suit  you,  so  I  '11  just  send  you  to  bed." 

I  felt  the  whole  force  of  my  kind  friend's  advice,  and 
yielding  obedience  at  once,  I  shook  him  by  the  hand  and 
wished  him  good-night. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

MURRANAKILTY. 

If  my  kind  reader  is  not  already  tired  of  the  mountain 
road  and  the  wild  west,  may  I  ask  him  —  dare  I  say  her  ?  — 
to  accompany  me  a  little  farther,  while  I  present  another 
picture  of  its  life  ? 

You  see  that  bold  mountain,  jagged  and  rugged  in  out- 
line, like  the  spine  of  some  gigantic  beast,  that  runs  far 
out  into  the  Atlantic,  and  ends  in  a  bold,  abrupt  headland, 
against  which  the  waves,  from  the  very  coast  of  Labrador, 
are  beating  without  one  intervening  rock  to  break  their 
force  ?  Carry  your  eye  along  its  base,  to  where  you  can 
mark  a  little  clump  of  alder  and  beech,  with  here  and  there 
a  taper  poplar  interspersed,  and  see  if  you  cannot  detect 
the  gable  of  a  long,  low,  thatched  house,  that  lies  almost 
buried  in  the  foliage.  Before  the  door  a  little  patch  of 
green  stretches  down  to  the  shore,  where  a  sandy  beach, 
glowing  in  all  the  richness  of  a  morning  sun,  glitters 
with  many  a  shell  and  brilliant  pebble.  That,  then,  is 
Murranakilty. 

But  approach,  I  beg  you,  a  little  nearer.  Let  me  suppose 
that  you  have  traced  the  winding  of  that  little  bay,  cross- 
ing the  wooden  bridge  over  the  bright  trout  stream,  as  it 
hastens  on  to  mingle  its  waters  with  the  ocean;  you  have 
climbed  over  the  rude  stile,  and  stopped  for  an  instant  to 
look  into  the  holy  well,  in  whose  glassy  surface  the  little 
wooden  crucifix  above  is  dimly  shadowed,  and  at  length 
yon  stand  upon  the  lawn  before  the  cottage.  What  a  glori- 
ous scene  is  now  before  you  !  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
bay.  the  mountain,  whose  summit  is  lost  among  the  clouds, 
seems   as   it  were  cleft   by  some  earthquake  force  ;    and 


MURRANAKILTY.  63 

through  its  narrow  gorge  you  can  trace  the  blue  water  of  the 
sea  passing  in,  while  each  side  of  the  valley  is  clothed  with 
wood.  The  oak  of  a  hundred  years,  here  sheltered  from 
the  rude  wind  of  the  Atlantic,  spreads  its  luxuriant  arms, 
while  the  frothy  waves  are  breaking  at  its  feet.  High, 
however,  above  their  tops  you  may  mark  the  irregular  out- 
line of  a  large  building,  with  battlements  and  towers  and 
massive  walls,  and  one  tall  and  loop-holed  turret,  that  rises 
high  into  the  air,  and  around  whose  summit  the  noisy 
rooks  are  circling  in  their  flight.  That  is  Kilmorran  Castle, 
the  residence  of  Sir  Simon  Bellew.  There,  for  centuries 
past,  his  ancestors  were  born  and  died ;  there,  in  the  midst 
of  that  wild  and  desolate  grandeur,  the  haughty  descendants 
of  an  ancient  house  lived  on  from  youth  to  age,  surrounded 
by  all  the  observances  of  feudal  state,  and  lording  it  far  and 
near,  for  many  a  mile,  with  a  sway  and  power  that  would 
seem  to  have  long  since  passed  away. 

You  carry  your  eye  seaward,  and  I  perceive  your  attention 
is  fixed  upon  the  small  schooner  that  lies  anchored  in  the 
offing ;  her  topsail  is  in  the  clews,  and  flaps  lazily  against 
the  mast,  as  she  rolls  and  pitches  in  the  breaking  surge. 
The  rake  of  her  low  masts  and  the  long  boom  that  stretches 
out  far  beyond  her  taffrail  have,  you  deem  it,  a  somewhat 
suspicious  look;  and  you  are  right.  She  is  "La  Belle 
Louise,"  a  smuggling  craft  from  Dieppe,  whose  crew,  half 
French,  half  Irish,  would  fight  her  to  the  gunwale,  and  sink 
with  but  never  surrender  her.  You  hear  the  plash  of  oars, 
and  there  now  you  can  mark  the  eight-oared  gig  springing 
to  the  stroke,  as  it  shoots  from  the  shore  and  heads  out  to 
sea.  Sir  Simon  loves  claret,  and  like  a  true  old  Irish  gen- 
tleman he  drinks  it  from  the  wood  ;  there  may,  therefore, 
be  some  reason  why  those  wild-looking  red-caps  have  pulled 
in  shore. 

But  now  I  '11  ask  you  to  turn  to  an  humbler  scene,  and 
look  within  that  room  where  the  window,  opened  to  the 
ground,  is  bordered  by  blossoming  honeysuckle.  It  is  the 
priest's  parlor.  At  a  little  breakfast-table,  whose  spotless 
cloth  and  neat  but  simple  equipage  has  a  look  of  propriety 


64  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

and  comfort,  is  seated  one  whose  gorgeous  dressing-gown 
and  lounging  attitude  seem  strangely  at  variance  with  the 
humble  objects  around  him.  He  seems  endeavoring  to  read 
a  newspaper,  which  ever  and  anon  he  lays  down  beside 
him,  and  turns  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  fire ;  for 
although  it  is  July,  yet  a  keen  freshness  of  the  morning  air 
makes  the  blazing  turf  by  no  means  objectionable.  He 
looks  towards  the  fire,  perhaps  you  would  say,  lost  in  his 
own  thoughts  and  musings  ;  but  no,  truth  must  out,  and  his 
attention  is  occupied  in  a  very  different  way.  Kneeling  be- 
fore the  fire  is  a  young  and  lovely  country-girl,  engaged  in 
toasting  a  muffin  for  the  priest's  breakfast.  Her  features 
are  flushed,  partly  with  shame,  partly  with  heat ;  and  as 
now  and  then  she  throws  back  her  long  hair  from  her  face 
with  an  impatient  toss  of  her  head,  she  steals  a  glance  at 
the  stranger  from  a  pair  of  eyes  so  deeply  blue  that  at  first 
you  were  unjust  enough  to  think  them  black.  Her  dress  is 
a  low  bodice,  and  a  short  skirt  of  that  brilliant  dye  the 
Irish  peasant  of  the  west  seems  to  possess  the  secret  for. 
The  jupe  is  short,  I  say ;  and  so  much  the  better  for  you, 
as  it  displays  a  pair  of  legs  which,  bare  of  shoe  or  stock- 
ing, are  perfect  in  their  symmetry,  —  the  rounded  instep 
and  the  swelling  ankle  chiselled  as  cleanly  as  a  statue 
of  Canova. 

And  now,  my  good  reader,  having  shown  you  all  this,  let 
me  proceed  with  my  narrative. 

"And  sure  now,  sir,  wouldn't  it  be  better  for  you,  and 
you  sickly,  to  be  eating  your  breakfast,  and  not  be  wait- 
ing for  Father  Tom  ?  Maybe  he  would  n't  come  in  this 
hour  yet." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mary ;  I  had  rather  wait.  I  hope  you 
are  not  so  tired  of  my  company  that  you  want  an  excuse  to 
get  away  ?  " 

"Ah,  be  asy  now,  if  you  plaze,  sir!  It's  myself  that's 
proud  to  be  talking  to  you."  And  as  she  spoke  she  turned 
a  pair  of  blue  eyes  upon  me  with  such  a  look  that  I  could 
not  help  thinking  if  the  gentlemen  of  the  west  be  exposed 
to  such,  their  blood  is  not  as  hot  as  is  reputed.     I  suppose  I 


MURRANAKILTY.  65 

looked  as  much;  for  she  blushed  deeply,  and  calling  out, 
"  Here  's  Father  Tom ! "  sprang  to  her  legs  and  hurried 
from  the  room. 

"  Where  are  you  scampering  that  way  ?  "  cried  the  good 
priest,  as  he  passed  her  in  the  hall.  "  Ah,  Captain,  Cap- 
tain !  behave  yourself ! " 

"  I  protest,  Father  —  "  cried  I. 

"  To  be  sure  you  do !  Why  would  n't  you  protest  ?  But 
see  now,  it  was  your  business  brought  me  out  this  morning. 
Hand  me  over  the  eggs ;  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  hawk.  The 
devil  is  in  that  girl,  —  they  are  as  hard  as  bullets  !  I  see 
how  it  was,  plain  enough.  It 's  little  she  was  thinking  of 
the  same  eggs.  Well,  well !  this  is  an  ungrateful  world ; 
and  only  think  of  me,  all  I  was  doing  for  you." 

"  My  dear  father,  you  are  quite  wrong  —  " 

"No  matter.  Another  slice  of  bacon.  And,  after  all, 
who  knows  if  I  have  the  worst  of  it  ?  Do  you  know,  now, 
that  Miss  Bellew  has  about  the  softest  cheek  —  " 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  I,  reddening. 

"Why,  just  that  I  was  saluting  her  a  la  Frangaise  this 
morning ;  and  I  never  saw  her  look  handsomer  in  my  life. 
It  was  scarce  seven  o'clock  when  I  was  over  at  Kilmorran, 
but,  early  as  it  was,  I  caught  her  making  breakfast  for  me  ; 
and,  father  and  priest  that  I  am,  I  could  n't  help  feeling  in 
love  with  her.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  just  to  watch  her 
light  step  and  graceful  figure  moving  about  the  parlor,  — 
now  opening  the  window  to  let  in  the  fresh  air  of  the 
morning ;  now  arranging  a  bouquet  of  moss-roses ;  now 
busying  herself  among  the  breakfast  things,  and  all  the 
while  stealing  a  glance  at  Sir  Simon,  to  see  if  he  were 
pleased  with  what  she  was  doing.  He  '11  be  over  here  by- 
and-by,  to  call  on  you ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  an  attention  he 
seldom  pays  any  one,  for  latterly,  poor  fellow,  he  is  not 
over  satisfied  with  the  world, — and  if  the  truth  were  told, 
he  has  not  had  too  much  cause  to  be  so." 

"  You  mentioned  to  him,  then,  that  I  was  here  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  did ;  and  the  doing  so  cost  me  a  scalded 
finger ;  for  Miss  Lousia,  who  was  pouring  out  my  tea  at  the 

VOL.  II.  —  5 


66  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

moment,  gave  a  jerk  with  her  hand,  and  spilled  the  boiling 
water  all  over  me.  —  Bad  cess  to  you,  Mary,  but  you  've 
spoiled  the  toast  this  morning !  half  of  it  never  saw  the  fire, 
and  the  other  half  is  as  black  as  my  boot.  —  But,  as  I  was 
saying,  Sir  Simon  knows  all  about  you,  and  is  coming  over 
to  ask  us  to  dine  there, — though  I  offered  to  give  the  invi- 
tation myself,  and  accept  it  first ;  but  he  is  very  punctilious 
about  these  things,  and  wouldn't  hear  of  anything  but 
doing  it  in  the  regular  way." 

"  Did  he  allude  to  Mr.  Ulick  Burke's  affair  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word.  And  even  when  I  wished  to  touch  on  it 
for  the  sake  of  a  little  explanation,  he  adroitly  turned  the 
subject,  and  spoke  of  something  else.  But  it  is  drawing 
late,  and  I  have  some  people  to  see  this  morning ;  so  come 
along  now  into  my  little  library  here,  and  I  '11  leave  you 
for  awhile  to  amuse  yourself." 

The  priest  led  me,  as  he  spoke,  into  a  small  room,  whose 
walls  were  covered  with  books  from  the  floor  to  the  ceil- 
ing; even  the  very  door  by  which  we  entered  had  its 
shelves,  like  the  rest,  so  that  when  once  inside  you  could 
see  no  trace  of  it.  A  single  window  looked  seaward,  to- 
wards the  wide  Atlantic,  and  presented  a  view  of  many 
miles  of  coast,  indented  with  headland  and  promontory. 
Beneath,  upon  the  placid  sea,  was  a  whole  fleet  of  fishing- 
boats,  the  crews  of  which  were  busily  engaged  in  collecting 
the  sea-weed  to  manure  the  land.  The  sight  was  both  curi- 
ous and  picturesque.  The  light  boats,  tossing  ou  the  heavy 
swell,  were  crowded  with  figures  whose  attitude  evinced  all 
the  eagerness  of  a  chase.  Sometimes  an  amicable  contest 
would  arise  between  two  parties,  as  their  boat-hooks  were 
fixed  in  the  same  mass  of  tangled  weed.  Sometimes  two 
rival  crews  would  be  seen  stretching  upon  their  oars,  as 
they  headed  out  to  sea  in  search  of  a  new  prize.  The 
merry  voices  and  the  loud  laughter,  however,  that  rose 
above  all  other  sounds,  told  that  good-humor  and  good-will 
never  deserted  them  in  all  the  ardor  of  the  contest. 

Long  after  the  priest  left  me,  I  continued  to  watch  them. 
At  last  I  set  myself  to  explore  the  good  father's  shelves, 


MURRANAKILTY.  67 

which  I  found,  for  the  most  part,  were  filled  with  portly- 
tomes  of  divinity  and  polemics,  —  huge  folio  copies  of  Saint 
Augustine,  Origen,  Eusebius,  and  others  ;  innumerable  vol- 
umes of  learned  tractates  on  disputed  points  in  theology,  — 
none  of  which  possessed  any  interest  for  me.  In  one  cor- 
ner, however,  beside  the  fire,  whose  convenience  to  the  ha- 
bitual seat  of  Father  Tom  argued  that  they  were  not  least 
in  favor  with  his  Reverence,  was  an  admirable  collection  of 
the  French  dramatists,  —  Moliere,  Beaumarchais,  Racine, 
and  several  more.  These  were  a  real  treat;  and  seating 
myself  beside  the  window,  I  prepared,  for  about  the  twen- 
tieth time  in  my  life,  to  read  "  La  Folle  Journee." 

I  had  scarcely  got  to  the  end  of  the  second  act,  when  the 
door  was  gently  opened,  and  Mary  made  her  appearance,  — 
not  in  the  dishabille  of  the  morning,  however,  but  with  a 
trim  cotton  gown,  and  smart  shoes  and  stockings ;  her  hair, 
too,  was  neatly  dressed,  in  the  country  fashion.  Yet  still  I 
was  more  than  half  disposed  to  think  she  looked  even 
better  in  her  morning  costume. 

The  critical  scrutiny  of  my  glance  had  evidently  discon- 
certed her,  and  made  her,  for  the  moment,  forget  the  object 
of  her  coming.  She  looked  down  and  blushed ;  she  fiddled 
with  the  corner  of  her  apron,  and  at  last,  recollecting  her- 
self, she  dropped  a  little  courtesy,  and,  opening  the  door 
wide,  announced  Sir  Simon  Bellew. 

"Mr.  Hinton,  I  believe,"  said  Sir  Simon,  with  a  slight 
smile,  as  he  bowed  himself  into  the  apartment ;  "  will  you 
allow  me  to  introduce  myself,  —  Sir  Simon  Bellew." 

The  baronet  was  a  tall,  thin,  meagre-looking  old  man, 
somewhat  stooped  by  age,  but  preserving,  both  in  look  and 
gesture,  not  only  the  remains  of  good  looks,  but  the  evident 
traces  of  one  habituated  to  the  world.  His  dress  was  very- 
plain  ;  but  the  scrupulous  exactitude  of  his  powdered  cue, 
and  the  massive  gold-headed  cane  he  carried,  showed  he 
had  not  abandoned  those  marks  of  his  position  so  distinc- 
tive of  rank  in  those  days.  He  wore,  also,  large  and  hand- 
some buckles  in  his  shoes  ;  but  in  every  other  particular 
his  costume  was  simplicity  itself.     Conversing  with  an  ease 


68  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

which  evinced  his  acquaintance  with  all  the  forms  of  soci- 
ety, he  touched  shortly  upon  my  former  acquaintance  with 
his  daughter,  and  acknowledged  in  terms  slight,  but  suit- 
able, how  she  had  spoken  of  me.  His  manner  was,  how- 
ever, less  marked  by  everything  I  had  deemed  to  be  Irish 
than  that  of  any  other  person  I  had  met  with  in  the  coun- 
try ;  for  while  he  expressed  his  pleasure  at  my  visit  to  the 
west,  and  invited  me  to  pass  some  days  at  his  house,  his 
manner  of  doing  so  had  nothing  whatever  of  the  warmth 
and  empressement  I  had  so  often  seen.  In  fact,  save  a 
slight  difference  in  accent,  it  was  as  English  as  need  be. 

Whether  I  felt  disappointed  at  this,  or  whether  I  had 
myself  adopted  the  habits  and  prejudices  of  the  land,  I  am 
unable  to  say,  but  certainly  I  felt  chilled  and  repulsed ;  and 
although  our  interview  scarce  lasted  twenty  minutes,  I  was 
delighted  when  he  rose  to  take  his  leave,  and  say,  good- 
morning. 

"  You  are  good  enough,  then,  to  promise  you  '11  dine  with 
us  to-morrow,  Mr.  Hinton.  I  need  scarcely  remark  that  I 
can  have  no  party  to  meet  you,  for  this  wild  neighborhood 
has  denied  us  that ;  but  as  I  am  aware  that  your  visit  to 
the  west  is  less  for  society  than  scenery,  perhaps  I  may 
assure  you  you  will  not  be  disappointed.  So  now,  au 
revoir."  Sir  Simon  bowed  deeply  as  he  spoke,  and,  with 
a  wave  of  his  hat  that  would  have  done  honor  to  the  court 
of  Louis  XV.,  he  took  his  leave  and  departed. 

I  followed  him  with  my  eye,  as  mounted  on  his  old  gray 
pony,  he  ambled  quietly  down  the  little  path  that  led  to 
the  shore.  Albeit  an  old  man,  his  seat  was  firm,  and  not 
without  a  certain  air  of  self-possession  and  ease ;  and  as  he 
returned  the  salutations  of  the  passing  country  people,  he 
did  so  with  the  quiet  dignity  of  one  who  felt  he  conveyed 
an  honor  even  in  the  recognition.  There  was  something 
singular  in  the  contrast  of  that  venerable  figure  with  the 
wild  grandeur  of  the  scene ;  and  as  I  gazed  after  him,  it 
set  me  thinking  on  the  strange  vicissitudes  of  life  that  must 
have  made  such  as  he  pass  his  days  in  the  dreary  solitude 
of  these  mountains. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

SIR   SIMON. 

My  journey  had  so  far  fatigued  me  that  I  was  n't  sorry 
to  have  a  day  of  rest ;  and  as  Father  Tom  spent  the  greater 
part  of  it  from  home,  I  was  left  to  myself  and  my  own 
reflections.  The  situation  in  which  I  found  myself  was 
singular  enough,  —  the  guest  of  a  man  whose  acquaintance 
I  had  made  by  chance,  and  who,  knowing  as  little  of  me  as 
I  did  of  him,  yet  showed  by  many  an  act  of  kindness,  not 
less  than  by  many  a  chance  observation,  a  deep  interest  in 
myself  and  my  fortunes.  Here,  then,  I  was,  —  far  from  the 
sphere  of  my  duties,  neglecting  the  career  I  had  adopted, 
and  suffering  days,  weeks,  to  pass  over  without  bestowing 
a  thought  upon  my  soldier  life. 

Following  on  this  train  of  thought,  I  could  not  help  ac- 
knowledging to  myself  that  my  attachment  to  Miss  Bellew 
was  the  cause  of  my  journey,  and  the  real  reason  of  my 
wandering.  However  sanguine  may  be  the  heart  when 
touched  by  the  first  passion,  the  doubts  that  will  now  and 
then  shoot  across  it  are  painful  and  poignant ;  and  now,  in 
the  calmness  of  my  judgment,  I  could  not  but  see  the  innu- 
merable obstacles  my  family  would  raise  to  all  my  hopes. 
I  well  knew  my  father's  predilection  for  a  campaigning 
life,  and  that  nothing  would  compensate  to  him  for  the 
defeat  of  this  expectation.  I  had  but  too  many  proofs  of 
my  mother's  aristocratic  prejudices  to  suppose  that  she 
ever  could  acknowledge  as  her  daughter-in-law  one  whose 
pretensions  to  rank,  although  higher  than  her  own,  were 
yet  neither  trumpeted  by  the  world  nor  blazoned  by  fashion. 
And  lastly,  changed  as  I  was  myself  since  my  arrival  in 
Ireland,  there  was  yet  enough  of  the  Englishman  left  in 


70  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

me  to  see  how  unsuited  was  Louisa  Bellew,  in  many  re- 
spects, to  be  launched  forth  in  the  torrent  of  London  life, 
while  yet  her  experience  of  the  world  was  so  narrow  and 
limited.  Still,  I  loved  her.  The  very  artless  simplicity 
of  her  manner,  the  untutored  freshness  of  her  mind,  had 
taught  me  to  know  that  even  great  personal  attractions 
may  be  the  second  excellence  of  a  woman.  And  besides, 
I  was  just  at  that  time  of  life  when  ambition  is  least 
natural.  One  deems  it  more  heroic  to  renounce  all  that  is 
daring  in  enterprise,  all  that  is  great  in  promise,  merely 
to  be  loved.  My  mind  was  therefore  made  up.  The 
present  opportunity  was  a  good  one  to  see  her  frequently 
and  learn  thoroughly  to  know  her  tastes  and  her  disposi- 
tions. Should  I  succeed  in  gaining  her  affections,  however 
opposed  my  family  might  prove  at  first,  I  calculated  on 
their  fondness  for  me  as  an  only  son,  and  knew  that  in 
regard  to  fortune  I  should  be  independent  enough  to  marry 
whom  I  pleased. 

In  speculations  such  as  these  the  time  passed  over ;  and 
although  I  waited  with  impatience  for  the  hour  of  our  visit 
to  Kilmorran  Castle,  still,  as  the  time  drew  near,  many  a 
passing  doubt  would  flit  across  me,  —  how  far  I  had  mis- 
taken the  promptings  of  my  own  affection  for  any  return 
of  my  love.  True  it  was,  that  more  than  once  Louisa's 
look  and  manner  testified  I  was  not  indifferent  to  her; 
still,  when  I  remembered  that  I  had  ever  seen  her  sur- 
rounded by  persons  she  was  anxious  to  avoid,  a  suspicion 
crossed  me  that  perhaps  I  owed  the  little  preference  she 
showed  me  less  to  any  qualities  I  possessed  than  to  my 
own  unobtrusiveness.  These  were  galling  and  unpleasant 
reflections ;  and  whither  they  might  have  led  me  I  know 
not,  when  the  priest  tapped  with  his  knuckles  at  my 
window,  and  called  out,  — 

"  Captain,  we  shall  be  late  if  }rou  don't  hurry  a  bit ;  and 
I  had  rather  be  behind  time  with  his  gracious  Majesty  him- 
self than  with  old  Sir  Simon." 

I  opened  the  window  at  once,  and  jumped  out  into  the 
lawn. 


SIR   SIMON.  71 

"My  dear  father,  I've  been  ready  this  half-hour,  but 
fell  into  a  dreamy  fit  and  forgot  everything.  Are  we  to 
walk  it?" 

"  No,  iiq  ;  the  distance  is  much  greater  than  you  think. 
Small  as  the  bay  looks,  it  is  a  good  three  miles  from  this  to 
Kilmorran;  but  here  comes  your  old  friend  the  curriculus." 

I  once  more  mounted  to  my  old  seat,  and  the  priest,  guid- 
ing the  horse  down  to  the  beach,  selected  the  strand,  from 
which  the  waves  had  just  receded,  as  the  hardest  road,  and 
pressed  on  at  a  pace  that  showed  his  desire  to  be  punctual. 

"  Get  along  there,  Nabocklish  !  How  lazy  the  devil  is  ! 
Faith,  we  '11  be  late,  do  our  best.  Captain,  darling,  put  your 
watch  back  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  I  '11  stand  to  it  that 
we  are  both  by  Dublin  time." 

"  Is  he,  then,  so  very  particular,"  said  I,  "  as  all  that 
comes  to  ?  " 

"  Particular,  is  it  ?  Faith  he  is.  Why,  man,  there  is  as 
much  ringing  of  bells  before  dinner  in  that  house  as  if 
every  room  in  it  was  crammed  with  company.  And  the 
old  butler  will  be  there,  all  in  black,  and  his  hair  pow- 
dered, and  beautiful  silk  stockings  on  his  legs,  every  day 
in  the  week,  although,  maybe,  it  is  a  brace  of  snipe  will  be 
all  that  is  on  the  table.  Take  the  whip  for  a  while,  and 
lay  into  that  baste,  —  my  heart  is  broke  flogging  him." 

Had  Sir  Simon  only  watched  the  good  priest's  exertions 
for  the  preceding  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  certainly  would 
have  had  a  hard  heart  if  he  had  criticised  his  punctuality. 
Shouting  one  moment,  cursing  the  next,  thrashing  away 
with  his  whip,  and  betimes  striding  over  the  splash-board 
to  give  a  kick  with  his  foot,  he  undoubtedly  spared  noth- 
ing in  either  voice  or  gesture. 

"  There,  glory  be  to  God !  "  cried  he  at  last,  as  he  turned 
sharp  from  the  shady  road  into  a  narrow  avenue  of  tall 
lime-trees;  "take  the  reins,  Captain,  till  I  wipe  my  face. 
Blessed  hour,  look  at  the  state  I  am  in !  Lift  him  to  it, 
and  don't  spare  him.  May  I  never,  if  that  is  n't  the  last 
bell,  and  he  only  gives  five  minutes  after  that !  " 

Although  I  certainly  should  have  preferred  that  Father 


72  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Tom  had  continued  his  functions  as  charioteer  now  that  we 
were  approaching  the  house,  common  humanity  however 
compelled  me  to  spare  him,  and  I  flogged  and  chucked  the 
old  beast  with  all  my  might  up  the  rising  ground  towards 
the  house.  I  had  but  just  time  to  see  that  the  building  be- 
fore us  was  a  large  embattled  structure,  which,  although 
irregular  and  occasionally  incongruous  in  detail,  was  yet  a 
fine  specimen  of  the  castellated  Gothic  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Massive  square  towers  flanked  the  angles,  them- 
selves surmounted  by  smaller  turrets,  that  shot  up  into  the 
air  high  above  the  dark  woods  around  them.  The  whole 
was  surrounded  by  a  fosse,  now  dry,  and  overgrown  with 
weeds  ;  but  the  terrace,  which  lay  between  this  and  the 
castle,  was  laid  out  as  a  flower-garden,  with  a  degree  of 
taste  and  beauty  that  to  my  mind  at  least  bespoke  the  fos- 
tering hand  of  Louisa  Bellew.  Upon  this  the  windows  of 
a  large  drawing-room  opened,  at  one  of  which  I  could  mark 
the  tall  and  stately  figure  of  Sir  Simon,  as  he  stood,  watch 
in  hand,  awaiting  our  arrival.  I  confess,  it  was  not  with- 
out a  sense  of  shame  that  I  contiifTTed  my  flagellations  at 
the  moment.  Under  any  circumstances,  our  turn-out  was 
not  quite  unexceptionable ;  but  when  I  thought  of  my  own 
position,  and  of  the  good  priest  who  sat  beside  me  mopping 
his  head  and  face  with  a  huge  red  cotton  handkerchief,  I 
cursed  my  stars  for  the  absurd  exposure.  Just  at  this  in- 
stant the  skirt  of  a  white  robe  passed  one  of  the  windows, 
and  I  thought  —  I  hope  it  was  but  a  thought  —  I  heard  a 
sound  of  laughter. 

"  There,  that  will  do.  Phoebus  himself  could  n't  do  it 
better.  I  would  n't  wish  my  worst  enemy  to  be  in  a  pair  of 
shafts  before  you." 

Muttering  a  curse  on  the  confounded  beast,  I  pulled  short 
up  and  sprang  out. 

"  Not  late,  Nicholas,  I  hope  ?  "  said  the  priest  to  a  tall, 
thin  old  butler,  who  bore  a  most  absurd  resemblance  to  his 
master. 

"  Your  Reverence  has  a  minute  and  a  half  yet ;  but  the 
soup 's  on  the  table."    As  he  spoke,  he  drew  from  his  pocket 


SIR  SIMON.  73 

a  small  bit  of  looking-glass,  in  a  wooden  frame,  and  with  a 
pocket-comb  arranged  his  hair  in  the  most  orderly  and  de- 
corous manner ;  which  being  done,  he  turned  gravely  round 
and  said,  "  Are  ye  ready,  now,  gentlemen  ?  " 

The  priest  nodded,  and  forward  we  went.  Passing  through 
a  suite  of  rooms  whose  furniture,  however  handsome  once, 
was  now  worm-eaten  and  injured  by  time,  we  at  length 
reached  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  when  the  butler, 
after  throwing  one  more  glance  at  us  to  assure  himself  that 
we  were  in  presentable  array,  flung  the  door  wide  open,  and 
announced,  with  the  voice  of  a  king-at-arms,  — 

"  The  Reverend  Father  Loftus,  and  Mr.  Hinton." 

"  Serve  ! "  said  Sir  Simon,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 
While,  advancing  towards  us,  he  received  us  with  most 
polished  courtesy.  "You  are  most  welcome  to  Kilmorran, 
Mr.  Hinton.     I  need  not  present  my  daughter." 

He  turned  towards  the  priest,  and  the  same  moment  I 
held  Miss  Bellew's  hand  in  mine.  Dressed  in  white,  and 
with  her  hair  plainly  braided  on  her  cheek,  I  thought  she 
looked  handsomer  than  I  had  ever  seen  her.  There  was  an 
air  of  assured  calmness  in  her  manner  that  sat  well  upon 
her  lovely  features,  as,  with  a  tone  of  winning  sweetness, 
she  seconded  the  words  of  her  father,  and  welcomed  me  to 
Kilmorran. 

The  first  step  in  the  knowledge  of  the  female  heart  is  to 
know  how  to  interpret  any  constraint  or  reserve  of  manner 
on  the  part  of  the  woman  you  are  in  love  with.  Your  mere 
novice  is  never  more  tempted  to  despair  than  at  the  precise 
moment  his  hopes  should  grow  stronger ;  nor  is  he  ever  so 
sanguine  as  when  the  prospect  is  gloomy  before  him.  The 
quick  perceptions  of  even  a  very  young  girl  enable  her  to 
perceive  when  she  is  loved ;  and  however  disposed  she  may 
feel  towards  the  individual,  a  certain  mixture  of  womanly 
pride  and  coquetry  will  teach  her  a  kind  of  reserve  towards 
him.  Now,  there  was  a  slight  dash  of  this  constrained 
tone  through  Miss  Bellew's  manner  to  me  ;  and  little  expe- 
rience as  I  had  had  in  such  matters,  I  knew  enough  to 
augur  favorably  from  it.     While  doing  the  honors  of  her 


74  JACK  HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

house,  a  passing  timidity  would  seem  every  now  and  then 
to  check  her  advances,  and  I  could  remark  how  carefully 
she  avoided  any  allusion,  however  slight,  to  our  past 
acquaintance. 

•  The  austerity  of  Sir  Simon's  manner  at  his  first  visit,  as 
well  as  the  remarks  of  my  friend  the  priest,  had  led  me  to 
suspect  that  our  dinner-party  would  prove  cold,  formal,  and 
uncomfortable  ;  indeed,  the  baronet's  constrained  and  meas- 
ured courtesy  in  the  drawing-room  gave  me  but  little  en- 
couragement to  expect  anything  better.  Most  agreeable, 
therefore,  was  my  disappointment  to  find  that  before  the 
soup  was  removed  he  had  thawed  considerably.  The 
stern  wrinkles  of  his  haughty  face  relaxed,  and  a  bland 
and  good-humored  smile  had  usurped  the  place  of  his  for- 
mer fixed  and  determined  look.  Doing  the  honors  of  his 
table  with  the  most  perfect  tact,  he  contrived,  while  almost 
monopolizing  the  conversation,  to  appear  the  least  obtru- 
sive amongst  us ;  his  remarks  being  ever  accompanied 
by  some  appeal  to  his  daughter,  the  priest,  or  myself, 
seemed  to  link  us  in  the  interest  of  all  he  said,  and  make 
his  very  listeners  deem  themselves  entertaining  and  agree- 
able. Unfortunately,  I  can  present  but  a  very  meagre  pic- 
ture of  this  happy  gift ;  but  I  remember  well  how  insensibly 
my  prejudices  gave  way,  one  by  one,  as  I  listened  to  his 
anecdotes,  and  heard  him  recount,  with  admirable  humor, 
many  a  story  of  his  early  career.  To  be  sure,  it  may  be 
said  that  my  criticism  was  not  likely  to  be  severe  while 
seated  beside  his  beautiful  daughter,  whose  cheek  glowed 
with  pleasure,  and  whose  bright  eye  glistened  with  added 
lustre  as  she  remarked  the  impression  her  father's  agreea- 
bility  was  making  on  his  guests.  Such  may,  I  doubt  not, 
have  increased  the  delight  I  felt;  but  Sir  Simon's  own 
claims  were  still  indisputable. 

I  know  not  how  far  I  shall  meet  my  reader's  concurrence 
in  the  remark,  but  it  appears  to  me  that  conversational 
talent,  like  wine,  recprires  age  to  make  it  mellow.  The 
racy  flavor  that  smacks  of  long  knowledge  of  life,  the  re- 
flective tone  that  deepens  without  darkening  the  picture, 


SIR  SIMON.  75 

the  freedom  from  exaggeration  either  in  praise  or  censure, 
are  not  the  gifts  of  young  men,  usually  ;  and  certainly  they 
do  season  the  intercourse  of  older  ones,  greatly  to  its  ad- 
vantage. There  is,  moreover,  a  pleasant  flattery  in  listen- 
ing to  the  narratives  of  those  who  were  mixing  with  the 
busy  world  —  its  intrigues,  its  battles,  and  its  by-play  — 
while  we  were  but  boys.  How  we  like  to  hear  of  the  social 
every-day  life  of  those  great  men  of  a  by -gone  day,  whose 
names  have  become  already  historical ;  what  a  charm  does 
it  lend  to  reminiscence,  when  the  names  of  Burke,  Sheri- 
dan, Grattan,  and  Curran  start  up  amid  memories  of  youth- 
ful pleasure  ;  and  how  we  treasure  every  passing  word  that 
is  transmitted  to  us,  and  how  much,  in  spite  of  all  the  glo- 
rious successes  of  their  after  days,  do  we  picture  them  to 
ourselves,  from  some  slight  or  shadowy  trait  of  their  school 
or  college  life ! 

Sir  Simon  Bellew's  conversation  abounded  in  features  of 
this  kind.  His  career  had  begun  and  continued  for  a  long 
time  in  the  brightest  period  of  Ireland's  history,  —  when 
wealth  and  genius  were  rife  in  the  land,  and  when  the  joy- 
ous traits  of  Irish  character  were  elicited  in  all  their  force 
by  prosperity  and  happiness.  It  was  then  shone  forth  in 
all  their  brilliancy  the  great  spirits  whose  flashing  wit  and 
glittering  fancy  have  cast  a  sunlight  over  their  native  coun- 
try that  even  now,  in  the  twilight  of  the  past,  continues  to 
illumine  it.  Alas !  they  have  had  no  heritors  to  their 
fame;   they  have  left  no  successors  behind  them. 

I  have  said  that  Miss  Bellew  listened  with  delight  to  all 
her  father's  stores  of  amusement,  —  happy  to  see  him  once 
more  aroused  to  the  exertion  of  his  abilities,  and  pleased  to 
watch  how  successfully  his  manner  had  won  over  us.  With 
what  added  loveliness  she  looked  up  to  him,  as  he  narrated 
some  circumstances  of  his  political  career,  where  his  im- 
portance with  his  party  was  briefly  alluded  to ;  and  how 
proudly  her  features  glowed,  as  some  passing  sentiment  of 
high  and  simple  patriotism  would  break  from  him !  At 
such  moments,  the  resemblance  between  them  both  became 
remarkably  striking,  and  I  deemed  her  even  more  beautiful 


76  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

than  when  her  face  wore  its  habitual  calm  and  peaceful 
expression. 

Father  Loftus  himself  seemed  also  to  have  undergone  a 
change,  —  no  longer  indulging  in  his  accustomed  free-and- 
easy  manner,  seasoning  his  conversation  with  droll  allu- 
sions and  sly  jokes.  He  now  appeared  a  shrewd,  intelli- 
gent reasoner,  a  well  informed  man  of  the  world,  and  at 
times  evidenced  traits  of  reading  and  scholarship  I  was  no- 
wise prepared  for.  But  how  vain  is  it  for  one  of  any  other 
country  to  fathom  one  half  the  depth  of  Irish  character,  or 
say  what  part  is  inapplicable  to  an  Irishman!  My  own 
conviction  is  that  we  are  all  mistaken  in  our  estimate  of 
them ;  that  the  gay  and  reckless  spirit,  the  wild  fun,  and 
frantic  impetuous  devilment  are  their  least  remarkable 
features,  and  in  fact  only  the  outside  emblem  of  the  stir- 
ring nature  within.  Like  the  lightning  that  flashes  over 
the  thunder-cloud,  but  neither  influences  the  breaking  of 
the  storm  nor  points  to  its  course,  so  have  I  seen  the  jest 
break  from  lips  pale  with  hunger,  and  heard  the  laugh 
come  free  and  mellow  when  the  heart  was  breaking  in 
misery.     But  what  a  mockery  of  mirth ! 

When  we  retired  to  the  drawing-room,  Sir  Simon,  who 
had  something  to  communicate  to  Father  Tom,  took  him 
apart  into  one  of  the  deep  window-recesses,  and  I  was  left 
for  the  first  time  alone  beside  Miss  Bellew.  There  was 
something  of  awkwardness  in  the  situation ;  for  as  neither 
of  us  could  allude  to  the  past  without  evoking  recollections 
we  both  shunned  to  touch  on,  we  knew  not  well  of  what  to 
speak.  The  window  lay  open  to  the  ground,  displaying  be- 
fore us  a  garden  in  all  the  richness  of  fruit  and  blossom ; 
the  clustering  honeysuckle  and  the  dog-rose  hung  in  masses 
of  flower  across  the  casement,  and  the  graceful  hyacinth 
and  the  deep  carnation  were  bending  to  the  night  air, 
scented  with  the  odor  of  many  a  flower.  I  looked  wistfully 
without.  Miss  Bellew  caught  my  glance  ;  a  slight  hesita- 
tion followed,  and  then,  as  if  assuming  more  courage,  she 
said, — 

"  Are  you  fond  of  a  garden  ?    Would  you  like  to  walk  ?  " 


SIR  SIMON.  77 

The  haste  with  which  I  caught  at  the  proposal  half  dis- 
concerted her;  but,  -with  a  slight  smile,  she  stepped  out 
into  the  walk. 

How  I  do  like  a  large,  old-fashioned  garden  with  its 
venerable-  fruit-trees,  its  shady  alleys,  its  overgrown  and 
tangled  beds,  in  which  the  very  luxuriance  sets  all  effort  of 
art  at  defiance,  and  where  rank  growth  speaks  of  wildness 
rather  than  culture  !  I  like  those  grassy  walks,  where  the 
footstep  falls  unheard;  those  shady  thickets  of  nut-trees, 
which  the  blackbird  haunts  in  security,  and  where  the 
thrush  sings  undisturbed.  What  a  sense  of  quiet  home- 
happiness  there  breathes  in  the  leafy  darkness  of  the  spot, 
and  how  meet  for  reverie  and  reflection  does  it  seem  ! 

As  I  sauntered  along  beside  my  companion,  these 
thoughts  crowded  on  me.  Neither  spoke  ;  but  her  arm  was 
in  mine,  our  footsteps  moved  in  unison,  our  eyes  followed 
the  same  objects,  and  I  felt  as  though  our  hearts  beat  re- 
sponsively.  On  turning  from  one  of  the  darker  walks  we 
suddenly  came  upon  an  elevated  spot,  from  which,  through 
an  opening  in  the  wood,  the  coast  came  into  view,  broken 
into  many  a  rocky  promontory,  and  dotted  with  small 
islands.  The  sea  was  calm  and  waveless,  and  stretched 
away  towards  the  horizon  in  one  mass  of  unbroken  blue, 
where  it  blended  with  the  sky.  An  exclamation  of  "  How 
beautiful !  "  broke  from  me  at  once ;  and  as  I  turned  to- 
wards Louisa,  I  perceived  that  her  eyes  sparkled  with  pleas- 
ure, and  a  half  blush  was  mantling  her  cheek. 

"  You  are  not,  then,  disappointed  with  the  west  ?  "  said 
she,  with  animation. 

"  No,  no !  I  did  not  look  for  anything  like  this ;  nor," 
added  I,  in  a  lower  tone,  while  the  words  trembled  on  my 
lips,  "  did  I  hope  to  enjoy  it  thus.  " 

She  seemed  slightly  confused,  but  with  woman's  readiness 
to  turn  the  meaning  of  my  speech,  added,  — 

"  Your  recovery  from  illness  doubtless  gives  a  heightened 
pleasure  to  everything  like  this.  The  dark  hour  of  sickness 
is  often  needed  to  teach  us  to  feel  strongly  as  we  ought  the 
beauty  of  the  fair  world  we  live  in." 


78  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"It  may  be  so;  but  still  I  find  that  every  sorrow  leaves 
a  scar  upon  the  heart,  and  he  who  has  mourned  much  loses 
the  zest  for  happiness." 

"  Or,  rather,  his  views  of  it  are  different.  I  speak,  hap- 
pily for  me,  in  ignorance  ;  yet  it  seems  as  though  every 
trial  in  life  was  a  preparation  for  some  higher  scale  of  bliss- 
ful enjoyment ;  and  that  as  our  understandings  mature  in 
power,  so  do  our  hearts  in  goodness,  —  chastening  at  each 
ordeal  of  life,  till  at  last  the  final  sorrow,  death,  bids  us 
prepare  for  the  eternity  where  there  is  no  longer  grief,  and 
where  the  weary  are  at  rest." 

"  Is  not  your  view  of  life  rather  derived  from  the  happy 
experience  of  this  quiet  spot  than  suited  for  the  collisions 
of  the  world,  where,  as  men  grow  older,  their  consciences 
grow  more  seared,  their  hearts  less  open  ?  " 

"Perhaps ;  but  is  not  my  philosophy  a  good  one  that  fits 
me  for  my  station  ?  My  life  has  been  cast  here ;  I  have  no 
wish  to  leave  it.     I  hope  I  never  shall." 

"  Never  !  Surely,  you  would  like  to  see  other  countries, 
—  to  travel  ?" 

"  No,  no  !  All  the  brilliant  pleasures  you  can  picture  for 
me  would  never  requite  the  fears  I  must  suffer  lest  these 
objects  should  grow  less  dear  to  me  when  I  came  back  to 
them.  The  Tyrol  is  doubtless  grander  in  its  wild  magnifi- 
cence ;  but  can  it  ever  come  home  to  my  heart  with  so 
many  affections  and  memories  as  these  bold  cliffs  I  have 
gazed  on  in  my  infancy ;  or  should  I  benefit  in  happiness 
if  it  did  ?  Can  your  Swiss  peasant,  be  his  costume  ever  so 
picturesque,  interest  me  one  half  as  much  as  yonder  poor 
fisherman,  who  is  carrying  up  his  little  child  in  his  arms 
from  the  beach  ?  I  know  him,  his  home,  his  hearth ;  I 
have  seen  his  grateful  smile  for  some  small  benefit,  and 
heard  his  words  of  thankfulness.  And  think  you  not  that 
such  recollections  as  these  are  all  mingled  in  every  glance  I 
throw  around  me,  and  that  every  sun-lit  spot  of  landscape 
shines  not  more  brightly  in  my  heart  for  its  human  associa- 
tions ?  These  may  be  narrow  prejudices  —  I  see  you 
smile  at  me." 


SIR  SIMON.  79 

"No,  no  !     Trust  me,  I  do  not  undervalue  your  reasons." 

"  Well,  here  comes  Father  Loftus,  and  he  shall  be  judge 
between  us.  We  were  discussing  the  advantages  of  con- 
trasting our  home  with  other  countries  —  " 

"Ahem!  A  very  difficult  point,"  said  the  priest,  inter- 
rupting her,  and  drawing  himself  up  with  a  great  air  of 
judicial  importance.  "  Ubi  bene,  ibi  patria,  —  which  may 
be  rendered,  '  There  's  potatoes  everywhere.'  Not  that  I 
incline  to  the  doctrine  myself.  Ireland  is  the  only  enjoy- 
able country  I  know  of.  Utamur  ereatura,  dum  possumus, 
—  that  means  '  a  moderate  use  of  creature  comforts,'  Miss 
Louisa.  But,  troth,  I  'm  so  heated  with  an  argument  I  had 
with  Sir  Simon  that  I  'm  no  ways  competent  —  Did  I  tell 
you  he  was  waiting  for  his  tea  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  you  did  not,"  said  Miss  Bellew,  giving  vent 
to  a  laugh  she  had  been  struggling  against  for  the  last  few 
minutes ;  and  which  I  did  not  at  the  moment  know  was 
caused  by  her  perceiving  the  priest's  air  of  chagrin  and 
discontent,  the  evident  proofs  of  his  being  worsted  by  the 
old  baronet,  whose  chief  pleasure  in  life  was  to  worry  the 
father  into  a  discussion,  and  either  confuse  or  confute 
him.  "My  father  seems  in  such  good  spirits  to-night! 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  "  said  she,  roguishly,  looking  over  at 
the  priest. 

"  Never  saw  him  better ;  quite  lively  and  animated, 
and  "  —  dropping  his  voice  to  a  whisper  —  "  as  obstinate 
as  ever." 

As  we  entered  the  house  we  found  Sir  Simon  walking 
leisurely  up  and  down  the  drawing-room,  with  his  hands 
behind  his  back,  his  face  radiant  with  smiles,  and  his  eye 
gleaming  with  conscious  triumph  towards  the  corner  where 
the  priest  stood  tumbling  over  some  books  to  conceal  his 
sense  of  defeat.  In  a  few  minutes  after  we  were  seated 
round  the  tea-table;  the  little  cloud  was  dispelled,  and  a 
happier  party  it  was  difficult  to  imagine. 


CHAPTER  X. 


ST.    SENAN'S    WELL. 


How  shall  I  trace  this  the  happiest  period  of  my  life, 
when  days  and  weeks  rolled  on  and  left  no  trace  behind, 
save  in  that  delicious  calm  that  stole  over  my  senses  gradu- 
ally and  imperceptibly !  Each  morning  saw  me  on  my  way 
to  Castle  Bellew.  The  mountain  path  that  led  up  from  the 
little  strand  was  well  worn  by  my  footsteps ;  I  knew  its 
every  turn  and  winding ;  scarcely  a  dog-rose  bloomed  along 
the  way  with  which  I  had  not  grown  familiar.  And  how 
each  object  spoke  to  my  heart !  For  I  was  happy !  The 
clouds  that  moved  above,  the  rippling  tide  that  flowed  be- 
neath, the  sunny  shore,  the  shady  thicket,  were  all  to  me 
as  though  I  had  known  them  from  boyhood.  For  so  it  is, 
in  our  glad  moments  we  cling  to  all  things  that  surround 
us ;  and  giving  to  external  Nature  the  high  coloring  of  our 
own  hearts,  we  feel  how  beautiful  is  this  world ! 

Yet  was  my  mind  not  all  tranquil ;  for  often,  as  I  has- 
tened on,  some  passing  thought  would  shoot  across  me. 
Where  is  this  to  end  ?  Can  I  hope  ever  to  overcome  the 
deep-rooted  prejudices  of  my  family,  and  induce  them  to 
receive  amongst  them  as  my  wife  the  beautiful  and  artless 
daughter  of  the  wild  west  ?  Or  could  I  dare  to  expose  her, 
on  whom  all  my  affections  were  centred,  to  the  callous 
criticism  of  my  fine  lady-mother,  and  her  fashionable 
friends  in  London  ?  What  right  had  I  to  stake  Louisa's  hap- 
piness on  such  a  chance,  — to  take  her  from  all  the  objects 
endeared  to  her  by  taste,  by  time,  by  long-hallowed  associa- 
tions, and  place  her  amid  those  among  whom  the  very 
charm  of  her  untarnished  nature  would  have  made  her 
their  inferior?     Is  it  that  trait  of  rebellious  spirit  that 


ST.   SENAN'S  WELL.  81 

would  seem  to  leaven  every  portion  of  our  nature  which 
makes  our  love  strongest  when  some  powerful  barrier  has 
been  opposed  to  our  hopes  and  wishes ;  or  is  it,  rather,  that 
in  the  difficulties  and  trials  of  life  we  discover  those  deeper 
resources  of  our  hearts,  that  under  happier  auspices  had 
lain  dormant  and  unknown  ?  I  scarcely  know ;  but  true 
it  is,  after  such  reflections  as  these  I  ever  hurried  on  the 
faster  to  meet  Louisa,  more  resolutely  bent  than  ever,  in 
weal  or  woe,  to  link  my  fortune  with  her  own. 

Though  I  returned  each  night  to  the  priest's  cottage,  my 
days  were  entirely  spent  at  Castle  Bellew.  How  well  do  I 
remember  every  little  incident  that  marked  their  tranquil 
course !  The  small  breakfast-parlor,  with  its  old  Tudor 
window  looking  out  upon  the  flower-garden,  —  how  often 
have  I  paced  it,  impatient  for  her  coming;  turning  ever 
and  anon  to  the  opening  door,  where  the  old  butler,  with 
the  invariable  habitude  of  his  kind,  continually  appeared 
with  some  portion  of  the  breakfast  equipage !  How  I 
started,  as  some  distant  door  would  shut  or  open,  some 
far-off  footstep  sound  upon  the  stair,  and  wonder  within 
myself  why  felt  she  not  some  of  this  impatient  longing ! 
And  when  at  last,  tortured  with  anxiety  and  disappoint- 
ment, I  had  turned  away  towards  the  window,  the  gentle 
step,  the  rustling  dress,  and,  more  than  all,  the  indescriba- 
ble something  that  tells  us  we  are  near  those  we  love,  be- 
spoke her  coming,  —  oh,  the  transport  of  that  moment ! 
With  what  a  fervid  glow  of  pleasure  I  sprang  to  meet  her, 
to  touch  her  hand,  to  look  upon  her !  How  rapidly,  too,  I 
endeavored  to  speak  my  few  words  of  greeting,  lest  her 
father's  coming  might  interfere  with  even  this  short-lived 
period  of  happiness  ;  and,  after  all,  how  little  meaning  were 
in  the  words  themselves,  save  in  the  tone  I  spoke  them ! 

Then  followed  our  rambles  through  the  large  but  neg- 
lected garden,  where  the  rich-blossoming  fruit-tree  scented 
the  air,  loaded  with  all  the  fragrance  of  many  a  wild-flower. 
Now  strolling  onwards,  silent,  but  full  of  thought,  we  trod 
some  dark  and  shaded  alley ;  now  we  entered  upon  some 
open  glade,  where  a  view  of  the  far-off  mountains  would 

VOL.  II. — 6 


82  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

break  upon  us,  or  where  some  chance  vista  showed  the 
deep-blue  sunny  sea  swelling  with  sullen  roar  against  the 
rocky  coast.  How  often,  at  such  times  as  these,  have  I 
asked  myself  if  I  could  look  for  greater  happiness  than 
thus  to  ramble  on,  turning  from  the  stupendous  majesty 
of  Nature  to  look  into  her  eyes  whose  glance  met  mine 
so  full  of  tender  meaning,  while  words  would  pass  be- 
tween us,  few  and  low-voiced,  but  all  so  thrilling;  their 
very  accents  spoke  of  love ! 

Yet  amid  all  this  some  agonizing  doubt  would  shoot 
across  me  that  my  affection  was  not  returned.  The  very 
frankness  of  her  nature  made  me  fear ;  and  when  we  parted 
at  night,  and  I  held  my  homeward  way  towards  the  priest's 
cottage,  I  would  stop  from  time  to  time,  conning  over  every 
word  she  spoke,  calling  to  mind  each  trivial  circumstance ; 
and  if  by  accident  some  passing  word  of  jest,  some  look  of 
raillery,  recurred  to  my  memory,  how  have  the  warm  tears 
rushed  to  my  eyes,  as  with  my  heart  full  of  bursting  I  mut- 
tered to  myself,  "  She  loves  me  not !  "  These  fears  would 
then  give  way  to  hope,  as  in  my  mind's  eye  she  stood  be- 
fore me,  all  beaming  in  smiles.  And  amid  these  alternate 
emotions,  I  trod  my  lonely  path,  longing  for  the  morrow 
when  we  should  meet  again,  when  I  vowed  within  my  heart 
to  end  my  life  of  doubt  by  asking  if  she  loved  me.  But 
with  that  morrow  came  the  same  spell  of  happiness  that 
lulled  me ;  and  like  the  gambler  who  had  set  his  life  upon 
the  die,  and  durst  not  throw,  so  did  I  turn  with  trembling 
fear  from  tempting  the  chance  that  might  in  a  moment  dis- 
pel the  bright  dream  of  my  existence,  and  leave  life  bleak 
and  barren  to  me  forever. 

The  month  of  August  was  drawing  to  a  close,  as  we  saun- 
tered one  fine  evening  towards  the  sea-shore.  There  was  a 
little  path  which  wound  round  the  side  of  a  bold  crag, 
partly  by  steps,  partly  by  a  kind  of  sloping  way,  defended 
at  the  sides  by  a  rude  wooden  railing,  which  led  down  upon 
the  beach  exactly  at  the  spot  where  a  well  of  clear  spring- 
water  sprang  up,  and  tracked  its  tiny  stream  into  the  blue 
ocean.     This  little  spring,  which  was  always  covered  by  the 


ST.   SENAN'S   WELL.  83 

sea  at  high  water,  was  restored,  on  the  tide  ebbing,  to  its 
former  purity,  and  bubbled  away  as  before;  and  from  this 
cause  it  had  obtained  from  the  simple  peasantry  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  miraculous,  and  was  believed  to  possess  in- 
numerable'properties  of  healing  and  consoling. 

I  had  often  heard  of  it,  but  never  visited  it  before ;  and 
thither  we  now  bent  our  steps,  more  intent  upon  catching 
the  glorious  sunset  that  was  glowing  on  the  Atlantic  than 
of  testing  the  virtues  of  St.  Senan's  well,  for  so  was  it 
called.  The  evening,  an  autumnal  one,  was  calm  and  still ; 
not  a  leaf  stirred ;  the  very  birds  were  hushed ;  and  there 
was  all  that  solemn  silence  that  sometimes  threatens  the 
outbreak  of  a  storm.  As  we  descended  the  crag,  however, 
the  deep  booming  of  the  sea  broke  upon  us,  and  between 
the  foliage  of  the  oak-trees  we  could  mark  the  heavy  roll- 
ing of  the  mighty  tide,  as  wave  after  wave  swelled  on,  and 
then  was  dashed  in  foam  and  spray  upon  the  shore.  There 
was  something  peculiarly  grand  and  almost  supernatural  in 
the  heavy  swell  of  the  great  sea,  rearing  its  white  crest  afar 
and  thundering  along  the  weather-beaten  rocks,  when  every- 
thing else  was  calm  and  unmoved  around;  the  deep  and 
solemn  roar,  echoing  from  many  a  rocky  cavern,  rose  amid 
the  crashing  spray  that  sent  up  a  thin  veil  of  mist,  through 
which  the  setting  sun  was  reflected  in  many  a  bright  rain- 
bow. It  was  indeed  a  glorious  sight,  and  we  stopped  for 
several  minutes  gazing  on  it ;  when  suddenly  Louisa,  let- 
ting go  my  arm,  exclaimed,  as  she  pointed  downwards,  — 

"See,  see  the  swell  beneath  that  large  black  rock  yonder! 
The  tide  is  making  fast ;  we  must  get  quickly  down  if  you 
wish  to  test  St.  Senan's  power." 

I  had  no  time  left  me  to  ask  what  peculiar  virtues  the 
saint  dispensed  through  the  mediation  of  his  well,  when  she 
broke  from  my  side  and  hurried  down  the  steep  descent. 
In  a  moment  we  had  reached  the  shore,  upon  which  already 
the  tide  was  fast  encroaching,  and  had  marked  with  its  dark 
stain  the  yellow  sand  within  a  few  feet  of  the  well.  As  we 
drew  nearer,  I  perceived  the  figure  of  an  old  woman  bent 
with  age,  who  seemed  busily  occupied  sprinkling  the  water 


84  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

of  the  spring  over  something  that,  as  I  came  closer,  seemed 
like  a  sailor's  jacket.  She  was  repeating  some  words  rapidly 
to  herself ;  but  on  hearing  our  approach,  she  quickly  col- 
lected her  bundle  together  under  her  remnant  of  a  cloak, 
and  sat  waiting  our  approach  in  silence. 

"  It 's  Molly  Ban !  "  said  Louisa,  suddenly,  and  growing 
pale  as  she  spoke.  "  Give  her  something,  if  you  have  any 
money,  I  beseech  you." 

There  was  no  opportunity  for  inquiring  further  about  her 
now,  for  the  old  woman  slowly  rose  from  the  stone  by  the 
aid  of  a  stick,  and  stood  confronting  us.  Her  figure  was 
singularly  short,  scarce  four  feet  in  height ;  but  her  head 
was  enormously  large,  and  her  features,  which  were  almost 
terrific  in  ugliness,  were  swarthy  as  a  gypsy's.  A  man's  hat 
was  fastened  upon  her  head  by  a  red  kerchief,  which  was 
knotted  beneath  her  chin  ;  a  short  cloak  of  faded  scarlet, 
like  what  the  peasantry  of  the  west  usually  wear,  covered 
her  shoulders,  beneath  which  a  patched  and  many-colored 
petticoat  appeared,  that  reached  to  the  middle  of  her  legs, 
which,  as  well  as  her  feet,  were  completely  naked,  giving  a 
look  of  wildness  and  poverty  in  one  so  old  I  cannot  attempt 
to  convey.  The  most  singular  part  of  her  costume,  how- 
ever, was  a  rude  collar  she  wore  round  her  neck  of  sea- 
shells,  among  which,  here  and  there,  I  could  detect  some 
bits  of  painted  and  gilded  carving,  like  fragments  of  a 
wreck.  This  strange  apparition  now  stood  opposite  me, 
her  dark  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  my  companion,  to  whom, 
unlike  the  people  of  the  country,  she  never  made  the  slight- 
est reverence  or  showed  any  semblance  of  respect. 

"  And  was  it  to  spy  after  me,  Miss  Loo,  ye  brought  down 
yer  sweetheart  to  the  well  this  evening  ?  "  said  the  hag,  in 
a  harsh,  grating  voice,  that  seemed  the  very  last  effort  of 
some  suppressed  passion. 

Louisa's  arm  grasped  mine,  and  I  could  feel  it  tremble 
with  agitation  as  she  whispered  in  my  ear,  — 
"  Give  her  money  quickly ;  I  know  her." 
"  And  is  your  father  going  to  send  me  back  to  jail  be- 
cause the  cattle 's  got  the  rot  amongst  them  ?     Ha,  ha,  ha ! " 


ST.   SENAN'S   WELL. 


85 


said  she,  breaking  into  a  wild,  discordant  laugh.  "  There 
will  be  more  mourning  than  for  that  at  Castle  Bellew  before 
long." 

Louisa  leaned  against  me,  faint  and  almost  falling,  while 
drawing  out  my  purse  hastily  I  held  forth  my  hand  full  of 
silver.  The  old  hag  clutched  at  it  eagerly,  and  as  her  dark 
eyes  flashed  fire  she  thrust  the  money  into  a  pocket  at  her 
side,  and  again  broke  out  into  a  horrid  laugh. 

"  So,  you  're  beginnin'  to  know  me,  are  ye  ?  Ye  won't 
mock  Molly  Ban  now,  eh  ?     No,  faith,  nor  Mary  Lafi'erty 


W~&^ 


either,  that  turned  me  from  the  door  and  shut  it  agin  me. 
Where  '11  her  pride  be  to-morrow  night,  when  they  bring 
in  her  husband  a  corpse  to  her  ?     Look  at  that !  " 

With  these  words  she  threw  her  cloak  or.  one  side,  and 
showed  the  blue  jacket  of  a  fisherman  which  I  had  seen  her 
sprinkling  with  the  water  as  we  came  up. 

"  The  blue  water  will  be  his  winding-sheet  this  night, 
calm  as  it  is  now." 

"  Oh,  Molly  dear,  don't  speak  this  way !  " 


86  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

" '  Molly  dear  ! ' "  echoed  the  beldame,  in  an  accent  of 
biting  derision.  "  Who  ever  heerd  one  of  your  name  call 
me  that  ?  Or  are  ye  come  for  a  charm  for  that  young  man 
beside  you  ?  See,  now  !  the  sun  's  just  gone  ;  in  a  minit 
more  the  sea  '11  be  in,  and  it  '11  be  too  late.  Here,  come 
near  me  !  kneel  down  there !  kneel  down,  I  say !  or  is  it 
only  my  curse  ye  mind  ?  " 

"  She 's  mad,  poor  thing,"  said  I,  in  my  companion's  ear. 
"  Let  her  have  her  way ;  do  as  she  bids  you." 

Sinking  with  terror,  pale  as  death,  and  trembling  all 
over,  Louisa  bent  one  knee  upon  the  little  rock  beside  the 
well,  while  the  old  hag  took  her  fair  hand  within  her  own 
skinny  fingers  and  plunged  it  rudely  in  the  well. 

"  There,  drink,"  said  the  old  woman,  offering  me  the 
fair  palm,  through  which  the  clear  water  was  running  rap- 
idly, while  she  chanted  rather  than  spoke  the  rude  rhyme 
that  follows,  — 

"  By  the  setting  sun, 
The  flowing  sea, 
The  waters  that  run, 
I  swear  to  thee 
That  my  faith  shall  be  true,  at  this  moment  now, 
In  weal  or  in  woe,  wherever  or  how  : 
So  help  me,  Saint  Senan,  to  keep  my  vow ! " 

The  last  words  had  scarcely  been  uttered  when  Louisa, 
who  apparently  had  been  too  much  overcome  by  terror  to 
hear  one  word  the  hag  had  muttered,  sprang  up  from  the 
stone,  her  face  and  neck  covered  with  a  deep  blush,  her 
lip  trembling  with  agitation,  while  her  eyes  were  fixedly 
directed  towards  the  old  woman  with  an  expression  of 
haughty  anger. 

"Ay>  ye  may  look  as  proud  as  ye  like.  It's  little  I 
mind  ye,  in  love  or  in  hate.  Ye  are  well  humbled  enough 
now.  And  as  for  you,"  said  she,  turning  towards  me  a  look 
of  scornful  pity,  —  "  you,  I  wish  ye  joy  of  your  fair  sweet- 
heart ;  let  her  only  keep  her  troth  like  her  own  motner,  and 
ye  '11  have  a  happy  heart  to  sit  at  yer  fireside  with." 

The  blood  fled  from  Louisa's  cheek  as  these  words  were 
Uttered ;  a  deadly  paleness  spread  over  her  features;  her  lips 


ST.  SENAN'S  WELL.  87 

were  bloodless  and  parted;  and  her  hands  firmly  clinched 
together  and  pressed  against  her  side  bespoke  the  agony 
of  the  moment.  It  lasted  not  longer ;  for  she  fell  back 
fainting  and  insensible  into  my  arms.  I  bathed  her  face 
and  temples  from  the  well ;  I  called  upon  her,  rubbed  her 
hands  within  my  own,  and  endeavored  by  every  means  to 
arouse  her ;  but  in  vain.  I  turned  to  beg  for  aid  from  the 
woman,  but  she  was  gone.  I  again  endeavored  to  awake 
Louisa  from  her  stupor,  but  she  lay  cold,  rigid,  and  motion- 
less ;  her  features  had  stiffened  like  a  corpse,  and  showed  no 
touch  of  life.  I  shouted  aloud  for  aid  ;  but,  alas  !  we  were 
far  from  all  human  habitations,  and  the  wild  cries  of  the 
curlew  were  the  only  sounds  that  met  my  ear,  or  the  deep 
rushing  of  the  sea,  as  it  broke  nearer  and  nearer  to  where 
I  stood.  A  sudden  pang  of  horror  shot  across  me  as  I 
looked  around  and  below,  and  saw  no  chance  of  aid  from 
any  quarter.  Already  the  sun  was  below  the  horizon,  and 
the  gray  twilight  gave  but  gloomy  indications  all  around. 
The  sea,  too,  was  coming  fast ;  the  foam  had  reached  us,  and 
even  now  the  salt  tide  had  mingled  its  water  with  the  little 
spring.  No  more  time  was  to  be  lost.  A  projecting  point 
of  rock  intervened  between  us  and  the  little  path  by  which 
we  had  descended  to  the  beach  ;  over  this  the  spray  was 
now  splashing,  and  its  base  was  only  to  be  seen  at  inter- 
vals between  the  advancing  or  retiring  wave.  A  low  wail- 
ing sound,  like  distant  wind,  was  creeping  over  the  water, 
which  from  time  to  time  was  curled  along  the  round-backed 
wave  with  all  the  threatening  aspect  of  a  coming  storm  ; 
the  sea-birds  wheeled  round  in  circles,  waking  the  echoes 
with  their  wild  notes,  and  the  heavy  swell  of  the  breaking 
sea  roared  through  many  a  rocky  cavern  with  a  sad  and 
mournful  melody.  I  threw  one  last  look  above,  where  the 
tall  beetling  cliff  was  lost  in  the  gloom  of  coming  night, 
another  on  the  broad  bleak  ocean,  and  then,  catching  up  my 
companion  in  my  arms,  set  forward. 

For  the  first  few  moments  I  felt  not  my  burden.  My 
beating  heart  throbbed  proudly,  and  as  I  pressed  her  to  my 
bosom,  how  I  nerved  myself  for  any  coming  danger  by  the 


88  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

thought  that  all  the  world  to  me  lay  in  my  arms !  Every 
step,  however,  brought  me  farther  out;  the  sea,  which  at 
first  washed  only  to  my  ankles,  now  reached  my  knees ; 
my  step  became  unsteady,  and  when  for  an  instant  I  turned 
one  look  on  her  who  lay  still  and  insensible  within  my 
grasp,  I  felt  my  head  reel  and  my  sight  wander  as  I  again 
looked  out  on  the  dark  water  that  rolled  around  us.  We 
were  now  near  the  rocky  point  which  once  passed  placed  us 
in  safety ;  and  to  reach  this  I  summoned  up  every  effort. 
Around  this  the  waves  had  worn  a  deeper  track,  and 
against  its  side  they  beat  and  lashed  themselves  to  foam, 
which  boiled  in  broad  sheets  around.  A  loud  cheer  from 
some  one  on  the  cliff  above  us  turned  my  glance  upwards, 
and  I  could  see  lights  moving  backwards  and  forwards 
through  the  darkness ;  before  I  could  reply  to  the  voice, 
however,  a  large  wave  came  mantling  near,  gathering  force 
as  it  approached,  and  swelling  its  gigantic  mass  so  as  to 
shut  out  all  besides.  I  fixed  myself  firmly  to  resist  the 
shock,  and  slightly  bending,  opposed  my  shoulder  to  the 
mighty  roll  of  water  that  now  towered  like  a  wall  above  us. 
On  it  came,  till  its  dark  crest  frowned  above  our  heads; 
for  a  second  or  two  it  seemed  to  pause,  as  the  white  curl 
tipped  its  breaking  edge,  and  then,  with  a  roll  like  thunder, 
broke  over  us.  For  an  instant  I  held  my  footing ;  at 
length,  however,  my  step  tottered ;  I  felt  myself  lifted  up, 
and  then  hurled  headlong  beneath  the  swollen  volume  of 
water  that  closed  above  my  head.  Stunned,  but  not  sense- 
less, I  grasped  my  burden  closer  to  my  heart,  and  struggled 
to  regain  my  footing.  The  wave  passed  inwards  as  I  rose 
to  my  feet,  and  a  sea  of  boiling  foam  hissed  around  me. 
Beyond,  all  was  dim  and  indistinct ;  a  brooding  darkness 
stretched  towards  the  sea,  and  landward  the  tall  cliffs  were 
wrapped  in  deep  shadow,  except  when  the  light  that  I  had 
seen  flitted  from  place  to  place,  like  the  dancing  wild-fire. 
A  loud  cheer  from  on  high  made  me  suppose  that  we  were 
perceived;  but  my  attention  was  turned  away  by  a  low 
moaning  sound  that  came  floating  over  the  water ;  and  as  I 
looked,  I  could  see  that  the  black  surface  swelled  upwards, 


ST.  SENAN'S  WELL.  89 

as  if  by  some  mighty  force  beneath,  and  rose  towering  into 
the  air.  The  wave  that  now  approached  us  was  much 
greater  than  the  former  one,  and  came  thundering  on  as  if 
impatient  for  its  prey.  My  fear  was  of  being  carried  out  to 
sea,  and  I 'looked  hastily  around  for  some  rocky  point  to 
hold  on  by;  but  in  vain.  The  very  sands  beneath  me 
seemed  moving  and  shifting ;  the  voice  of  thunder  was  in 
my  ears ;  my  senses  reeled,  and  the  thought  of  death  by 
drowning,  with  all  its  agony,  came  over  me. 

"  Oh,  my  father  !  my  poor  father ! "  said  a  low  plaintive 
voice  beside  my  cheek;  and  the  next  instant  the  blood 
rushed  warm  to  my  heart.  My  courage  rallied ;  my  arm 
grew  nerved  and  strong ;  my  footsteps  seemed  to  grasp  the 
very  ground,  and  with  a  bold  and  daring  spirit  I  waited  for 
the  coming  shock.  On  it  came,  a  mighty  flood,  sweeping 
high  above  us  as  we  struggled  in  the  midst.  The  blue 
water  moved  on,  unbroken ;  for  a  moment  or  two  I  felt  we 
were  borne  along  with  a  whirlwind  speed ;  then  suddenly 
we  touched  the  strand,  —  but  only  for  a  second,  for  the  re- 
turning wave  came  thundering  back,  and  carried  us  along 
with  it.  My  senses  now  began  to  wander ;  the  dark  and 
gloomy  sea  stretched  around  us ;  the  stars  seemed  to  flit  to 
and  fro  ;  the  roar  of  water  and  the  sounds  of  human  voices 
were  mingled  in  my  ears  ;  my  strength,  too,  was  failing 
me,  and  I  buffeted  the  waves  with  scarcely  consciousness. 
Just  at  that  moment  when  all  dread  of  danger  past,  the 
gloomy  indifference  to  life  is  fast  succeeding,  I  saw  a  bright 
gleam  of  light  flying  rapidly  across  the  water ;  the  shouts 
of  voices  reached  me  also,  but  the  words  I  heard  not.  Now 
falling  beneath,  now  rising  above  the  foamy  surface,  I 
struggled  on,  my  only  strength  to  press  home  closer  to  my 
bosom  the  form  of  her  my  heart  was  filled  by,  when  of  a 
sudden  I  felt  my  arm  rudely  grasped  on  either  side.  A 
rope,  too,  was  thrown  around  my  waist,  and  I  was  hurried 
inwards  towards  the  shore  amid  cries  of  "All  safe!  all 
safe  !  not  too  fast,  there ! "  A  dreary  indistinctness  of 
what  followed  even  still  haunts  my  mind.  A  huge  wood- 
fire  upon  the  beach,  the  figures  of  the  fishermen,  the  coun- 


90  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

try  people  passing  hither  and  thither,  the  tumult  of  voices, 
and  a  rude  chair  in  which  lay  a  pale,  half-fainting  form. 
The  rest  I  know  not. 

It  was  dark,  so  dark  I  could  not  see  the  persons  that 
moved  beside  me.  As  we  passed  along  the  grassy  turf  in 
silence  I  held  a  soft  hand  in  mine,  and  a  fair  cheek  rested 
on  my  shoulder,  while  masses  of  long  and  dripping  hair 
fell  on  my  neck  and  bosom.  Carried  by  two  stout  peasant- 
fishermen  in  a  chair,  Louisa  Bellew,  faint  but  conscious  of 
the  danger  past,  was  borne  homeward.  I  walked  beside 
her,  my  heart  too  full  for  words.  A  loud,  wild  cheer  burst 
suddenly  forth,  and  a  bright  gleam  of  light  aroused  me 
from  my  trance  of  happiness.  The  steps  were  crowded 
with  people,  the  large  hall  so  full  we  scarce  could  force  our 
way.  The  door  of  the  parlor  was  now  thrown  open,  and 
there  sat  the  pale,  gaunt  figure  of  Sir  Simon  Bellew,  his 
eyes  staring  wildly,  and  his  lips  parted ;  his  hands  resting 
on  each  arm  of  his  chair,  but  all  still  and  motionless. 

Bursting  from  those  that  carried  her,  Louisa  sprang 
towards  her  father  with  a  cry;  but  ere  she  reached  his 
arms  he  had  fallen  from  his  seat  to  his  knees,  and  with 
his  hands  clasped  above  his  head,  and  upturned  eyes, 
poured  forth  his  prayer  to  God.  Sinking  to  his  side,  she 
twined  her  hands  with  his ;  and  as  if  moved  by  the  magic 
of  the  scene,  the  crowd  fell  to  their  knees,  and  joined  in 
the  thanksgiving.  It  was  a  moment  of  deep  and  touching 
feeling  to  hear  the  slow,  scarce  articulate  words  of  that 
old  man,  who  turned  from  the  sight  of  her  Jiis  heart 
treasured  to  thank  the  great  Father  of  mercy  who  had 
not  left  him  childless  in  his  age;  to  mark  the  low  sobs 
of  those  around,  as  they  strove  to  stifle  them,  while  tears 
coursed  down  the  hard  and  weather-beaten  cheeks  of  hum- 
ble poverty,  as  they  muttered  to  themselves  their  heartfelt 
thanks  for  her  preservation.  There  was  a  pause ;  the  old 
man  turned  his  eyes  upon  his  child,  and,  like  a  dammed- 
up  torrent  breaking  forth,  the  warm  tears  gushed  out,  and 
with  a  cry  of  "My  own,  my  only  one!"  he  fell  upon  her 
neck  and  wept. 


ST.   SENAN'S   WELL.  91 

I  could  hear  no  more.  Springing  to  my  feet,  I  dashed 
through  the  hall,  and,  resisting  every  effort  to  detain  me, 
rushed  down  the  steps  and  gained  the  lawn.  Once  there 
alone,  I  sank  down  upon  the  sward,  and  poured  forth  my 
heart  in  tears  of  happiness. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AN   UNLOOKED-FOR    MEETING. 

I  made  many  ineffectual  efforts  to  awake  in  the  morning 
after  my  adventure.  Fatigue  and  exhaustion,  which  seem 
always  heaviest  when  incurred  by  danger,  had  completely 
worn  me  out,  and  scarcely  had  I  succeeded  in  opening  my 
eyes  and  muttering  some  broken  words,  ere  again  I  dropped 
off  to  sleep,  soundly,  and  without  a  dream.  It  was  late  in 
the  afternoon  when  at  length  I  sat  up  in  my  bed  and  looked 
about  me.  A  gentle  hand  suddenly  fell  upon  my  shoulder, 
and  a  low  voice,  which  I  at  once  recognized  as  Father  Tom's, 
whispered,  — 

"  There  now,  my  dear  fellow,  lie  down  again.  You  must 
not  stir  for  a  couple  of  hours  yet." 

I  looked  at  him  fixedly  for  a  moment,  and,  as  I  clasped 
his  hand  in  mine,  asked,  — 

"  How  is  she,  Father  ?  " 

Scarcely  were  these  words  spoken  when  I  felt  a  burning 
blush  upon  my  cheek.  It  was  the  confidence  of  long  months 
that  found  vent  in  one  second,  the  pent-up  secret  of  my 
heart  that  burst  from  me  unconsciously,  and  I  hid  my  face 
upon  the  pillow,  and  felt  as  though  I  had  betrayed  her. 

"  Well,  quite  well,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  pressed  my 
hand  forcibly  in  his  own.  "But  let  us  not  speak  now. 
You  must  take  more  rest,  and  then  have  your  arm  looked 
to.     I  believe  you  have  forgotten  all  about  it." 

"  My  arm ! "  repeated  I,  in  some  surprise ;  while,  turning 
down  the  clothes,  I  perceived  that  my  right  arm  was  sorely 
bruised,  and  swollen  to  an  immense  size.  "The  rocks  have 
done  this,"  muttered  I.  "  And  she,  Father,  —  what  of  her, 
for  Heaven's  sake  ?  " 


[AN  UNLOOKED-FOR   MEETING.  93 

"Be  calm,  or  I  must  leave  you,"  said  the  priest.  "I  said 
before  that  she  was  well.     Poor  boy  ! " 

There  was  something  so  touching  in  the  tone  of  the  last 
words  that,  without  my  knowing  why,  I  felt  a  kind  of 
creeping  fear  pass  across  me,  and  a  dread  of  some  unknown 
evil  steal  over  me. 

"  Father,"  said  I,  springing  up,  and  grasping  him  with 
both  my  hands,  while  the  pain  of  my  wounded  arm  shot 
through  my  very  heart,  "you  are  an  honest  man,  and  you 
are  a  man  of  God;  you  would  not  tell  me  a  lie.  Is  she 
well  ? "     The  big  drop  fell  from  my  brow  as  I  spoke. 

He  clasped  his  hands  fervently  together  as  he  replied,  in 
a  voice  tremulous  with  agitation,  "I  have  not  told  you  a 
lie  !  "  He  turned  away  as  he  spoke,  and  I  lay  down  in  my 
bed  with  a  mind  relieved,  but  not  at  rest. 

Alas,  how  hard  it  is  to  be  happy !  The  casualties  of  this 
world  come  on  like  waves,  one  succeeding  the  other.  We 
may  escape  the  heavy  roll  of  the  mighty  ocean,  and  be 
wrecked  in  the  still,  smooth  waters  of  the  land-locked  bay. 
We  dread  the  storm  and  the  hurricane,  and  we  forget  how 
many  have  perished  within  sight  of  shore.  But  yet  a  secret 
fear  is  ever  present  with  us  when  danger  hovers  near ;  and 
this  sense  of  some  impending  evil  it  was  which  now  dark- 
ened me,  and  whispered  me  to  be  prepared. 

I  lay  for  some  time  sunk  in  my  reflections,  and  when  I 
looked  up,  the  priest  was  gone.  A  letter  had  fallen  on  the 
floor,  as  if  by  accident,  and  I  rose  to  place  it  on  my  table, 
when,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  it  addressed  to  myself.  It 
was  marked,  "  On  his  Majesty's  service,"  and  ran  thus  :  — 

Dublin  Castle. 
Sir,  —  I  have  received  his  Excellency's  orders  to  inform  you  that 
unless  you,  on  receipt  of  the  present  letter,  at  once  return  to  your 
duty  as  a  member  of  the  staff,  your  name  will  be  erased  from  the 
list,  and  the  vacancy  immediately  filled  up. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  etc.  Henry    Horton. 

What  could  have  caused  the  great  alteration  in  his  Ex- 
cellency's feelings  that  this  order  evinced  I  could  not  con- 


94  JACK   HENTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ceive,  and  felt  hurt  and  indignant  at  the  tone  of  a  letter 
which  came  on  me  so  completely  by  surprise.  I  knew, 
however,  how  much  my  father  looked  to  my  strict  obedience 
to  every  call  of  duty,  and  resolved  that,  come  what  would, 
I  should  at  once  resume  my  position  on  the  duke's  staff. 

These  were  but  momentary  reflections.  My  thoughts  re- 
curred at  once  to  where  my  heart  was  dwelling,  —  with  her 
whose  very  image  lived  within  me.  Try  how  I  would,  I 
could  think  of  no  pleasure  in  which  she  took  not  part, 
imagine  no  scheme  of  life  in  which  she  was  not  concerned. 
Ambition  had  lost  its  charm ;  the  path  of  glory  I  had 
longed  to  tread,  I  felt  now  as  nothing  beside  that  heather 
walk  which  led  me  towards  her;  and  if  I  were  to  have 
chosen  between  the  most  brilliant  career  high  station,  in- 
fluence, and  fortune  could  bestow,  and  the  lowly  condition 
of  a  dweller  in  these  wild  mountain  solitudes,  I  felt  that 
not  a  moment  of  hesitation  or  doubt  would  mark  my  de- 
cision. There  was  a  kind  of  heroism  in  the  relinquishing 
all  the  blandishments  of  fortune,  all  the  seductions  of  the 
brilliant  world,  for  one  whose  peaceful  and  humble  life 
strayed  not  beyond  the  limits  of  these  rugged  mountains ; 
and  this  had  its  charm.  There  were  times  when  I  loved  to 
ask  myself  whether  Louisa  Bellew  would  not,  even  amid 
all  the  splendor  and  display  of  London  life,  be  as  much  ad- 
mired and  courted  as  the  most  acknowledged  of  beauty's 
daughters  ;  now  I  turned  rather  to  the  thought  of  how  far 
happier  and  better  it  was  to  know  that  a  nature  so  unhack- 
neyed, a  heart  so  rich  in  its  own  emotions,  was  never  to  be 
exposed  to  the  callous  collision  of  society  and  all  the  hard- 
ened hypocrisy  of  the  world.  My  own  lot,  too,  how  many 
more  chances  of  happiness  did  it  not  present  as  I  looked 
at  the  few  weeks  of  the  past,  and  thought  of  whole  years 
thus  gliding  away,  loving  and   beloved  ! 

A  kind  of  stir,  and  the  sound  of  voices  beneath  my  win- 
dow, bi-oke  my  musings,  and  I  rose  and  looked  out.  It  pro- 
ceeded from  the  young  girl  and  the  country  lad  who  formed 
the  priest's  household.  They  were  talking  together  before 
the  door,  and  pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  high-road, 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR   MEETING.  95 

where  a  cloud  of  dust  had  marked  the  passage  of  sOme  car- 
riage, —  an  event  rare  enough  to  attract  attention  in  these 
wild  districts. 

"  And  did  his  Reverence  say  that  the  captain  was  to  be 
kept  in  bed  till  he  came  back  ?  " 

"  Ah,  then,  sure,  he  knew  well  enough,"  said  Mary, 
"  that  the  young  man  would  be  up  and  off  to  the  castle  the 
moment  he  was  able  to  walk,  —  ay,  and,  maybe,  before  it 
too.  Troth,  Fatsey,  it 's  what  I  'm  thinking,  — there  's  no- 
body knows  how  to  coort  like  a  raal  gentleman." 

"  Och,  botheration  !  "  said  Patsey,  with  an  offended  toss 
of  his  head,  and  a  look  of  half  malice. 

"  Faix,  you  may  look  how  you  like,  but  it 's  truth  I  'm 
telling  ye.  They  know  how  to  do  it.  It  is  n't  winking  at  a 
body,  nor  putting  their  great  rough  arms  round  their  neck ; 
but  it 's  a  quiet,  mannerly,  dacent  way  they  have,  and 
soothering  voice,  and  a  look  undher  their  eyes,  as  much  as 
to  say,  '  Maybe  you  would  n't,  now  ?  '  " 

"  Troth,  Mary,"  said  Patsey,  sharply,  "  it  strikes  me  that 
you  know  more  of  their  ways  than  is  just  convanient,  —  eh, 
do  you  understand  me  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  and  if  I  do,"  replied  Mary,  "  there 's  no  one 
can  be  evenen  it  to  you,  for  I'm  sure  it  wasn't  you 
taught  me  !  " 

"  Ye  want  to  provoke  me,"  said  the  young  man,  rising, 
and  evidently  more  annoyed  than  he  felt  disposed  to  con- 
fess ;  "  but,  faix,  I  '11  keep  my  temper.  It 's  not  after 
spaking  to  his  Reverence,  and  buying  a  cow  and  a  dresser, 
that  I  'm  going  to  break  it  off." 

"  Heigh-ho  !  "  said  Mary,  as  she  adjusted  a  curl  that  was 
most  coquettishly  half  falling  across  her  eyes ;  "  sure 
there 's  many  a  slip  betune  the  cup  and  the  lip,  as  the  poor 
dear  young  gentleman  will  find  out  when  he  wakes." 

A  cold  fear  ran  through  me  as  I  heard  these  words,  and 
the  presentiment  of  some  mishap  that  for  a  few  moments  I 
had  been  forgetting  now  came  back  in  double  force.  I  set 
about  dressing  myself  in  all  haste,  and,  notwithstanding 
that  my  wounded  arm  interfered  with  me  at  each  instant, 


96  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

succeeded  at  last  in  my  undertaking.  I  looked  at  my 
watch ;  it  was  already  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
large  mountains  were  throwing  their  great  shadows  over 
the  yellow  strand.  Collecting  from  what  I  had  heard  from 
the  priest's  servants  that  it  was  their  intention  to  detain  me 
in  the  house,  I  locked  my  door  on  leaving  the  room,  and 
stole  noiselessly  down  the  stairs,  crossed  the  little  garden, 
and  passing  through  the  beech-hedge,  soon  found  myself 
upon  the  mouutain  path.  My  pace  quickened  as  I  breasted 
the  hill-side,  my  eyes  firmly  fixed  upon  the  tall  towers  of 
the  old  castle,  as  they  stood  proudly  topping  the  dense 
foliage  of  the  oak-trees.  Like  some  mariner  who  gazes  on 
the  long-wished-for  beacon  that  tells  of  home  and  friends, 
so  I  bent  my  steadfast  looks  to  that  one  object,  and  con- 
jured up  many  a  picture  to  myself  of  the  scene  that  might 
be  at  that  moment  enacting  there.  Now  I  imagined  the  old 
man  seated,  silent  and  motionless,  beside  the  bed  where  his 
daughter,  overcome  with  weakness  and  exhaustion,  still 
slept,  her  pale  face  scarce  colored  by  a  pinkish  stain  that 
marked  the  last  trace  of  feverish  excitement ;  now  I  thought 
of  her  as  if  still  seated  in  her  own  drawing-room,  at  the 
little  window  that  looked  seaward,  looking  perhaps  upon 
the  very  spot  that  marked  our  last  night's  adventure,  and, 
mayhap,  blushing  at  the  memory. 

As  I  came  near  the  park  I  turned  from  the  regular  ap- 
proach to  a  small  path,  which,  opening  by  a  wicket,  led  to 
a  little  flower-garden  beside  the  drawing-room.  I  had  not 
walked  many  paces  when  the  sound  of  some  one  as  if  sob- 
bing caught  my  ear.  I  stopped  to  listen,  and  could  dis- 
tinctly hear  the  low  broken  voice  of  grief  quite  near  me. 
My  mind  was  in  that  excited  state  when  every  breeze  that 
rustled,  every  leaf  that  stirred,  thrilled  through  my  heart; 
the  same  dread  of  something,  I  knew  not  what,  that  agi- 
tated me  as  I  awoke  came  fresh  upon  me,  and  a  cold  tremor 
crept  over  me.  The  next  moment  I  sprang  forward,  and  as 
I  turned  the  angle  of  the  walk  beheld  —  with  what  relief  of 
heart !  —  that  the  cries  proceeded  from  a  little  child,  who, 
seated  in  the  grass,  was  weeping  bitterly.     It  was  a  boy  of 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  MEETING.  97 

scarce  five  years  old  that  Louisa  used  to  employ  about 
the  garden,  —  rather  to  amuse  the  little  fellow,  to  whom 
she  had  taken  a  liking,  than  for  the  sake  of  services  which 
at  the  best  were  scarcely  harmless. 

"  Well,  Billy,"  said  I,  "  what  has  happened  to  you,  my 
boy  ?     Have  you  fallen  and  hurt  yourself  ?  " 

"  Na,"  was  the  only  reply ;  and  sinking  his  head  between 
his  knees,  he  sobbed  more  bitterly  than  ever. 

"  Has  Miss  Loo  been  angry  with  you,  then  ?  " 

"  Xa,  na,"  was  the  only  answer,  as  he  poured  forth  a 
flood  of  tears. 

"  Come,  come,  my  little  man,  what  is  it  ?  Tell  me,  and 
perhaps  we  can  set  it  all  to  rights." 

"  Gone  !  gone  away  forever !  "  cried  the  child,  as  a  burst 
of  pent-up  agony  broke  from  him ;  and  he  cried  as  though 
his  very  heart  would  break. 

Again  the  terrible  foreboding  crossed  my  mind,  and  with- 
out waiting  to  ask  another  question  I  rushed  forward, 
cleared  the  little  fence  of  the  flower-garden  at  a  spring,  and 
stood  within  a  few  yards  of  the  window.  It  lay  open  as 
usual ;  the  large  china  vase  of  moss-roses  that  she  had 
plucked  the  evening  before  stood  on  the  little  table  beside 
it.  I  stopped  for  an  instant  to  breathe  ;  the  beating  of  my 
heart  was  so  painful  that  I  pressed  my  hand  upon  my  side. 
At  that  instant  I  had  given  my  life  to  have  heard  Louisa's 
voice ;  but  for  one  single  word  I  had  bartered  my  heart's 
blood.  But  all  was  as  hushed  and  still  as  midnight.  I 
thought  I  did  hear  something  like  a  sigh ;  yes,  and  now  I 
could  distinctly  hear  the  rustling  sound  of  some  one  as  if 
turning  in  a  chair.  Sir  Simon  Bellew,  for  some  cause  or 
other,  I  knew  never  came  into  that  room.  I  listened  again: 
yes,  and  now  too  I  could  see  the  shadow  of  a  figure  on  the 
floor.  I  sprang  forward  to  the  window  and  cried  out, 
"  Louisa ! "  The  next  instant  I  was  in  the  room,  and  my 
eyes  fell  upon  the  figure  of  —  Ulick  Burke !  Seated  in 
a  deep  armchair,  his  leg  resting  on  a  low  stool,  he  was 
reclining  at  half-length,  his  face  pale  as  death,  and  his 
very  lips   blanched ;    but  there  rested   on  the  mouth  the 

VOL.  II.  —  7 


98 


JACK   HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


same  curl  of  insolent  mockery  that  marked  it  when  first 
we  met. 

"  Disappointed,  I  fear,  sir,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  which, 
however  weakened  by  sickness,  had  lost  nothing  of  its 
sneering  bitterness. 


"  I  confess,  sir,"  said  I,  confusedly,  "  that  this  is  a 
pleasure  I  had  not  anticipated." 

"  Nor  I  either,  sir,"  replied  he  with  a  dark  frown.  "  Had 
I  been  able  to  ring  the  bell  before,  the  letter  that  lies  there 
should  have  been  sent  to  you,  and  might  have  spared  both 
of  us  this  '  pleasure,'  as  you  are  good  enough  to  call  it." 

"  A  letter  for  me  ?  "  said  I,  eagerly ;  then  half  ashamed 
at  my  own  emotion,  and  not  indifferent  to  the  sickly  and 
apparently  dying  form  before  me,  I  hesitated,  and  added, 
"  I  trust  that  you  are  recovering  from  the  effects  of  your 
wound  ? " 


AN   UNLOOKED-FOR   MEETING.  99 

"Damn  the  wound,  sir;  don't  speak  to  me  about  it! 
You  never  came  here  for  that,  I  suppose  ?  Take  your 
letter,  sir!"  A  purple  flush  here  colored  his  features,  as 
though  some  pang  of  agonizing  pain  had  shot  through  him, 
and  his  livid  lip  quivered  with  passion.  "  Take  your  letter, 
sir ! "  and  he  threw  it  towards  me  as  he  spoke. 

I  stood  amazed  and  thunderstruck  at  this  sudden  out- 
break of  anger,  and  for  a  second  or  two  could  not  recover 
myself  to  speak.     "  You  mistake  me,"  said  I. 

"  Mistake  you  ?  No,  confound  me  !  I  don't  mistake  you; 
I  know  you  well  and  thoroughly  !  But  you  mistake  me,  ay, 
and  damnably  too,  if  you  suppose  that  because  I  'm  crippled 
here  this  insolence  shall  pass  unpunished!  Who  but  a 
coward,  sir,  would  come  thus  to  taunt  a  man  like  me  ? 
Yes,  sir,  a  coward !  I  spoke  it  —  I  said  it !  Would  you 
like  to  hear  it  over  again  ?  Or  if  you  don't  like  it,  the 
remedy  is  n°ar  you,  —  nearer  than  you  think.  There  are 
two  pistols  in  that  case,  both  loaded  with  ball ;  take  your 
choice,  and  your  own  distance  ;  and  here,  where  we  are,  let 
us  finish  this  quarrel !  For,  mark  me  !  "  and  here  his  brow 
darkened,  till  the  veins,  swelled  and  knotted  in  his  fore- 
head, looked  like  indigo,  — "mark  me,  the  account  shall  be 
closed  one  day  or  other !  " 

I  saw  at  once  that  he  had  lashed  his  fury  up  to  an  un- 
governable pitch,  and  that  to  speak  to  him  was  only  to  in- 
crease his  passion;  so  I  stooped  down  without  saying  a 
word,  and  took  up  the  letter  that  lay  at  my  feet. 

"  I  am  waiting  your  reply,  sir,"  said  he,  with  a  low  voice, 
subdued  by  an  inward  effort  into  a  seeming  quietness  of 
tone. 

"You  cannot  imagine,"  said  T,  mildly,  "that  I  could  ac- 
cept of  such  a  challenge  as  this,  nor  fight  with  a  man  who 
cannot  leave  his  chair?" 

"  And  who  has  made  me  so,  sir  ?  Who  has  made  me  a 
paralytic  thing  for  life  ?  But  if  that  be  all,  give  me  your 
arm,  and  help  me  through  that  window ;  place  me  against 
that  yew-tree,  yonder.  I  can  stand  well  enough.  You 
won't  ?  —  you  refuse  me  this  ?     Oh,  coward !  coward !    You 


100  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

grow  pale  and  red  again  !  Let  your  white  lip  mutter,  and 
your  nails  eat  into  your  hands  with  passion !  Your  heart 
is  craven  and  you  know  it ! " 

Shall  I  dare  to  own  it  ?  For  an  instant  or  two  my  reso- 
lution tottered,  and  involuntarily  my  eyes  turned  to  the 
pistol-case  upon  the  table  beside  me.  He  caught  the  look, 
and  in  a  tone  of  triumphant  exultation  cried  out,  — 

"Bravo,  bravo!  What!  you  hesitate  again?  Oh,  that 
this  should  not  be  before  the  world, —  in  some  open  and 
public  place,  —  that  men  should  not  look  on  and  see  us 
here  ! " 

"  I  leave  you,  sir,"  said  I,  sternly,  —  "  thankful,  for  your 
sake  at  least,  that  this  is  not  before  the  world." 

"Stop,  sir!  stop!"  cried  he,  hoarse  with  rage.  "Ring 
that  bell!"  I  hesitated,  and  he  called  out  again,  "  Eing 
that  bell,  sir  !  " 

I  approached  the  chimney,  and  did  as  he  desired.  The 
butler  immediately  made  his  appearance. 

"  Nicholas,"  cried  the  sick  man,  "  bring  in  the  servants.  — 
bring  them  in  here  :  you  hear  me  well.  I  want  to  show 
them  something  they  have  never  seen.     Go  !  " 

The  man  disappeared  at  once,  and  as  I  met  the  scowling 
look  of  hate  that  fixed  its  glare  upon  me,  once  more  I  felt 
myself  to  waver.  The  struggle  was  but  momentary.  I 
sprang  to  the  window,  and  leaped  into  the  garden.  A  loud 
curse  broke  from  Burke  as  I  did  so  ;  a  cry  of  disappointed 
wrath,  like  the  yell  of  a  famished  wolf,  followed.  The 
next  moment  I  was  beyond  the  reach  of  his  insolence  and 
his  invective. 

The  passionate  excitement  of  the  moment  over,  my  first 
determination  was  to  gain  the  approach,  and  return  to  the 
house  by  the  hall-door ;  my  next,  to  break  the  seal  of  the 
letter  which  I  held  in  my  hand,  and  see  if  its  contents 
might  not  throw  some  light  upon  the  events  which  some- 
how I  felt  were  thickening  around  me,  but  of  whose  nature 
and  import  I  knew  nothing. 

The  address  was  written  in  a  stiff,  old-fashioned  hand  ; 
but  the  large  seal  bore  the  arms  of  the  Bellew  family,  and 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  MEETING.  101 

left  no  doubt  upon  my  mind  that  it  had  come  from  Sir 
Simon.  I  opened  it  with  a  trembling  and  throbbing  heart, 
and  read  as  follows  :  — 

My  dear  Sir,  —  The  event  of  last  night  has  called  back  upon  a 
failing  and  broken  memory  the  darkest  hour  of  a  long  and  blighted 
life,  and  made  the  old  man,  whose  steadfast  gaze  looked  onward  to 
the  tomb,  turn  once  backward  to  behold  the  deepest  affliction  of  his 
days,  —  misfortune,  crime,  remorse.  I  cannot  even  now,  while  al- 
ready the  very  shadow  of  death  is  on  me,  recount  the  sad  story  I 
allude  to  ;  enough  for  the  object  I  have  in  view  if  I  say,  that,  where 
I  once  owed  the  life  of  one  I  held  dearest  in  the  world,  the  hand  that 
saved  lived  to  steal,  and  the  voice  that  blessed  me  was  perjured  and 
forsworn.  Since  that  hour  I  have  never  received  a  service  of  a  fellow- 
mortal,  until  the  hour  when  you  rescued  my  child.  And  oh!  loving 
her  as  1  do,  wrapt  up  as  my  soul  is  in  her  image,  I  could  have  borne 
better  to  see  her  cold  and  dripping  corse  laid  down  beside  me  than  to 
behold  her,  as  I  have  done,  in  your  arms.  You  must  never  meet 
more.  The  dreadful  anticipation  of  long-suffering  years  is  creeping 
stronger  and  stronger  upon  me  ;  and  I  feel  in  my  inmost  heart  that 
I  am  reserved  for  another  and  a  last  bereavement  ere  I  die. 

We  shall  have  left  before  this  letter  reaches  you.  You  may  per- 
haps hear  the  place  of  our  refuge,  for  such  it  is ;  but  I  trust  that  to 
your  feelings  as  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  honor  I  can  appeal,  in  the 
certain  confidence  that  you  will  not  abuse  my  faith,  —  you  will  not 
follow  us. 

I  know  not  what  I  have  written,  nor  dare  I  read  it  again.  Already 
my  tears  have  dimmed  my  eyes,  and  are  falling  on  the  paper;  so  let 
me  bid  you  farewell,  —  an  eternal  farewell.  My  nephew  has  arrived 
here.  I  have  not  seen  him,  nor  shall  I  ;  but  he  will  forward  this 
letter  to  you  after  our  departure. 

Yours,  S.  Bellew. 

The  first  stunning  feeling  past,  I  looked  round  me  to  see 
if  it  were  not  some  horrid  dream,  and  the  whole  events  but 
the  frightful  deception  of  a  sleeping  fancy.  But  bit  by  bit 
the  entire  truth  broke  upon  me ;  the  full  tide  of  sorrow 
rushed  in  upon  my  heart.  The  letter  I  could  not  compre- 
hend further  than  that  some  deep  affliction  had  been  re- 
called by  my  late  adventure.  But  then,  the  words  of  the 
hag  —  the  brief,  half-uttered  intimations  of  the  priest  — 


102  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

came  to  my  memory.  "  Her  mother,"  said  I,  —  "  what  of 
her  mother  ?  "  I  remembered  Louisa  had  never  mentioned 
or  even  alluded  to  her ;  and  now  a  thousand  suspicions 
crossed  my  mind,  which  all  gave  way  before  my  own  sense 
of  bereavement  and  the  desolation  and  desertion  I  felt  in 
my  own  heart.  I  threw  myself  upon  the  ground  where  she 
walked  so  often  beside  me,  and  burst  into  tears.  But  a  few 
brief  hours,  and  how  surrounded  by  visions  of  happiness 
and  love  !  Now,  bereft  of  everything,  what  charm  had  life 
for  me !  How  valueless,  how  worthless  did  all  seem !  The 
evening  sun  I  loved  to  gaze  on,  the  bright  flowers,  the  wav- 
ing grass,  the  low  murmur  of  the  breaking  surf  that  stole 
like  music  over  the  happy  sense,  were  now  but  gloomy  things 
or  discordant  sounds.  The  very  high  and  holy  thoughts 
that  used  to  stir  within  me  were  changed  to  fierce  and  wrath- 
ful  passions  or  the  low  drooping  of  despair.  It  was  night, 
still  and  starry  night,  when  I  arose  and  wended  my  way 
towards  the  priest's  cottage. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   PRIEST'S    KITCHEN. 

The  candles  were  burning  brightly,  and  the  cheerful 
bog-fire  was  blazing  on  the  hearth,  as  I  drew  near  the 
window  of  the  priest's  cottage ;  but  yet  there  was  no 
one  in  the  room.  The  little  tea-kettle  was  hissing  on  the 
hob,  and  the  room  had  all  that  careful  look  of  watchful 
attention  bestowed  upon  it  that  showed  the  zeal  of  his 
little  household. 

Uncertain  how  I  should  meet  him,  how  far  explain  the 
affliction  that  had  fallen  on  me,  I  walked  for  some  time  up 
and  down  before  the  door;  at  length  I  wandered  to  the 
back  of  the  house,  and  passing  the  little  stable  I  remarked 
that  the  pony  was  absent.  The  priest  had  not  returned 
perhaps  since  morning ;  perhaps  he  had  gone  some  distance 
off,  —  in  all  likelihood  accompanied  the  Bellews ;  again 
the  few  words  he  had  spoken  that  morning  recurred  to 
me,  and  I  pondered  in  silence  over  their  meaning.  As  I 
thus  mused,  a  strong  flood  of  mellow  light  attracted  me 
as  it  fell  in  a  broad  stream  across  the  little  paved  court, 
and  I  now  saw  that  it  came  from  the  kitchen.  I  drew 
near  the  window  in  silence,  and  looked  in.  Before  the 
large  turf  fire  were  seated  three  persons ;  two  of  them, 
who  sat  in  the  shining  light,  I  at  once  recognized  as  the 
servants;  but  the  third  was  concealed  in  the  shadow  of 
the  chimney,  and  I  could  only  trace  the  outline  of  his 
figure  against  the  blaze.  I  was  not  long,  however,  in  doubt 
as  to  his  identity. 

"  Seemingly  then  you  're  a  great  traveller,"  said  Patsey, 
the  priest's  man,  addressing  the  unknown. 


104  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

A  long  whiff  of  smoke,  patiently  emitted,  and  a  polite 
wave  of  the  hand  in  assent  was  the  reply. 

"And  how  far  did  you  come  to-day,  av  I  might  be  so 
bould  ?  "  said  Mary. 

"From  the  cross  of  Kiltermon,  beyond  Gurtmore,  my 
darlin' ;  and  sure  it  is  a  real  pleasure  and  a  delight  to 
come  so  far  to  see  as  pretty  a  crayture  as  yourself."  Here 
Patsey  looked  a  little  put  out,  and  Mary  gave  a  half  smile 
of  encouragement.  "For,"  continued  the  other,  breaking 
into  a  song,  — 

"  Though  I  love  a  fox  in  a  cover  to  find, 
When  the  clouds  is  low,  with  a  sou'west  wind, 
Faix,  a  pretty  girl  is  more  to  my  mind 
Than  the  tally-high  ho  of  a  morning." 

I  need  scarcely  say  that  the  finale  of  this  rude  verse  was 
given  in  a  way  that  only  Tipperary  Joe  could  accomplish, 
as  he  continued,  — 

"  And  just  show  me  one  with  an  instep  high, 
A  saucy  look,  and  a  roguish  eye, 
Who  'd  smile  ten  times  for  once  she  'd  sigh, 
And  I'm  her  slave  till  morning." 

"  And  that 's  yoursel',  devil  a  less,  —  ye  ho,  ye  ho,  tally- 
ho  !     I  hope  the  family  is  n't  in  bed  ?  " 

"Troth,  seemingly,"  said  Patsey,  in  a  tone  of  evident 
pique,  "it  would  distress  you  little  av  they  were;  you  seem 
mighty  well  accustomed  to  making  j^ourself  at  home." 

"  And  why  would  n't  the  young  man  ?  "  said  Mary,  appar- 
ently well  pleased  to  encourage  a  little  jealousy  on  the  part 
of  her  lover,  "  and  no  harm  neither.  And  ye  do  be  always 
with  the  hounds,  sir  ?  " 

"Yes,  miss,  that 's  what  I  be  doing.  But  I  wonder  what 's 
keeping  the  captain ;  I'vea  letter  here  for  him  that  I  know 
ought  to  have  no  delay.  I  run  all  the  way  for  fourteen 
miles  over  Mey'nacurraghew  mountain  to  be  here  quick 
with  it." 

I  opened  the  door  as  I  heard  this,  and  entered  the  kitchen. 

"Hurroo!  by  the  mortial,"  cried  Joe,  with  one  of  his 


THE   PRIEST'S   KITCHEN.  105 

wild  shouts,  "  it 's  himself !  Arrah,  darlin',  how  is  every 
bit  in  your  skiu  ?  " 

"Well,  Joe,  my  poor  fellow,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you 
safe  and  spund  once  more.  Many  a  day  have  I  reproached 
myself  for  the  way  you  suffered  for  my  sake,  and  for  the 
manner  I  left  you." 

"There's  ouly  one  thing  you  have  any  ray  son  to  grieve 
over,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  as  the  tears  started  to  his  eyes, 
and  rolled  in  heavy  drops  down  his  cheeks,  "and  here  it  is." 

As  he  spoke,  he  drew  from  his  bosom  a  little  green-silk 
purse,  half  filled  with  gold. 

"  Ah,  Captain,  jewel,  why  wouldn't  you  let  a  poor  fellow 
teste  happiness  his  own  way?  Is  it  because  I  had  no 
shoes  on  me  that  I  had  n't  any  pride  in  my  heart  ?  And  is 
it  because  I  was  n't  rich  that  you  would  n't  let  me  be  a 
friend  to  you,  just  to  myself  alone  ?  Oh,  little  as  we  know 
of  grand  people  and  their  ways,  troth,  they  don't  see  our 
hearts  half  as  plain.  See,  now,  I  'd  rather  you  'd  have 
come  up  to  the  bed  that  morning  and  left  me  your  curse  — 
ay,  devil  a  less  —  than  that  purse  of  money ;  and  it  would  n't 
do  me  as  much  harm." 

He  dropped  his  head  as  he  spoke,  and  his  arms  fell  list- 
lessly to  his  side,  while  he  stood  mute  and  sorrow-struck 
before  me. 

"  Come,  Joe,"  said  I,  holding  out  my  hand  to  him,  — 
"come  Joe,  forgive  me.  If  I  didn't  know  better,  remem- 
ber we  were  only  new  acquaintance  at  that  time :  from  this 
hour  we  are  more." 

The  words  seemed  to  act  like  a  spell  upon  him ;  he  stood 
proudly  up,  and  his  eyes  flashed  with  their  wildest  glare, 
while,  seizing  my  hand,  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and  called 
out,  — 

"  While  there  's  a  drop  in  my  heart,  darlin'  —  " 

"You  have  a  letter  for  mc,"  said  I,  glad  to  turn  the 
channel  of  both  our  thoughts.     "  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"  At  the  Curragh,  sir,  no  less.  I  was  standing  beside  the 
staff,  among  all  the  grand  generals  and  the  quality,  near 
the  lord  liftinint,  and  I  heard  one  of  the  officers  say,  '  If  I 


106  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

knew  where  to  write  to  him,  I  'd  certainly  do  so  ;  but  he 
has  never  written  to  any  of  us  since  his  duel.'  '  Ah,'  said 
another,  '  Hinton  's  an  odd  fellow  that  way.'  The  minit  I 
heard  the  name,. I  up  and  said  to  him,  'Write  the  letter, 
and  I  '11  bring  it,  and  bring  you  an  answer  besides,  av  ye 
want  it.' " 

"  <  And  who  the  devil  are  you  ?  '  said  he. 

"  '  Troth,'  said  I,  '  there  's  more  on  this  race  knows  me 
nor  yourself,  fine  as  ye  are.'  And  they  all  began  laughing 
at  this,  for  the  officer  grew  mighty  red  in  the  face,  and  was 
angry ;  and  what  he  was  going  to  say  it 's  hard  to  tell,  for 
just  then  Lord  Clonmel  called  out,  — 

"  '  Sure,  it 's  Tipperary  Joe  himself ;  begad,  every  one 
knows  him.  Here,  Joe,  I  owe  you  half-a-crown  since  last 
meeting  at  the  lough.' 

"  '  Faix,  you  do,'  says  I,  '  and  ten  shillings  to  the  back  of 
it  for  Lanty  Cassan's  mare  that  I  hired  to  bring  you  home 
when  you  staked  the  horse ;  you  never  paid  it  since.' 
And  then  there  was  another  laugh  ;  but  the  end  of  all  was, 
he  writ  a  bit  of  a  note  where  he  was  on  horseback,  with  a 
pencil,  and  here  it  is." 

So  saying,  he  produced  a  small  crumpled  piece  of  paper, 
in  which  I  could  with  some  difficulty  trace  the  following 
lines :  — 

Dear  Jack,  —  If  the  fool  who  bears  this  ever  arrives  with  it, 
come  back  at  once.  Your  friends  in  England  have  been  worrying 
the  duke  to  command  your  return  to  duty  ;  and  there  are  stories 
afloat  about  your  western  doings  that  your  presence  here  can  alone 
contradict. 

Yours,  J.  Horton. 

It  needed  not  a  second  for  me  to  make  up  mjr  mind  as  to 
my  future  course,  and  I  said,  — 

"  How  can  I  reach  Limerbk  the  shortest  way  ?  " 

"  I  know  a  short  cut,"  said  Joe,  "  and  if  we  could  get  a 
pony  I  'd  bring  you  over  the  mountain  before  to-morrow 
evening." 

"And  you,"  said  I,  —  " how  are  you  to  go  ?  " 


THE  PRIEST'S   KITCHEN.  107 

"  On  my  feet,  to  be  sure  ;  how  else  would  I  go  ?  " 

Despatching  Joe,  in  company  with  Patsey,  in  search  of 
a  pony  to  carry  me  over  the  mountain,  I  walked  into  the 
little  parlor  which  I  was  now  about  to  take  my  leave  of 
forever. 

It  was  only  then  when  I  threw  myself  upon  a  seat,  alone 
and  in  solitude,  that  I  felt  the  full  force  of  all  my  sorrow, 
—  the  blight  that  had  fallen  on  my  dearest  hopes,  and  the 
blank,  bleak  prospect  of  life  before  me.  Sir  Simon  Belle  w's 
letter  I  read  over  once  more ;  but  now  the  mystery  it  con- 
tained had  lost  all  interest  for  me,  and  I  had  only  thoughts 
for  my  own  affliction.  Suddenly,  a  deep  burning  spot 
glowed  on  my  cheek  as  I  remembered  my  interview  with 
Ulick  Burke,  and  I  sprang  to  my  legs,  and  for  a  second  or 
two  felt  undecided  whether  I  would  not  give  him  the 
opportunity  he  so  longed  for.  It  was  but  a  second,  and  my 
better  reason  came  back,  and  I  blushed  even  deeper  with 
shame  than  I  had  done  with  passion. 

Calming  myself  with  a  mighty  effort,  I  endeavored  to 
pen  a  few  lines  to  my  worthy  and  kind  friend,  Father 
Loftus.  I  dared  not  tell  him  the  real  cause  of  my  de- 
parture, though  indeed  I  guessed  from  his  absence  that  he 
had  accompanied  the  Bellews,  and  but  simply  spoke  of  my 
return  to  duty  as  imperative,  and  my  regret  that  after  such 
proofs  of  his  friendship  I  could  not  shake  his  hand  at  part- 
ing. The  continued  flurry  of  my  feelings  doubtless  made 
this  a  very  confused  and  inexplicit  document;  but  I  could 
do  no  better.  In  fact,  the  conviction  I  had  long  been  labor- 
ing under,  but  never  could  thoroughly  appreciate,  broke  on 
me  at  the  moment.  It  was  this  :  the  sudden  vicissitudes 
of  every-day  life  in  Ireland  are  sadly  unsuited  to  our  Eng- 
lish natures  and  habits  of  thought  and  action.  These 
changes  from  grave  to  gay,  these  outbreaks  of  high-souled 
enthusiasm  followed  by  dark  reflective  traits  of  brooding 
thought,  these  noble  impulses  of  good,  these  events  of  more 
than  tragic  horror,  demand  a  changeful,  even  a  forgetful 
temperament  to  bear  them  ;  and  while  the  Irishman  rises 
or  falls  with  every  emergency  of  his  fate,  with  us  impres- 


108 


JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


sions  are  eating  deeper  and  deeper  into  our  hearts,  and  we 
become  sad  and  thoughtful,  and  prematurely  old.  Thus  at 
least  did  I  feel,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  very  many 
years  had  passed  over  me  since  I  left  my  father's  house. 

The  tramp  of  feet  and  the  sounds  of  speaking  and  laugh- 
ter outside  interrupted  my  musings,  and  I  heard  my  friend 
Joe  carolling  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  — 

"  Sir  Pat  bestrode  a  high-bred  steed, 
And  the  huntsman  one  that  was  broken-kneed, 
And  Father  Fitz  had  a  wiry  weed 

With  his  tally-high-ho  in  the  morning." 

"  Faith,  and  you  "re  a  great  beast  entirely ;  and  one  might 
dance  a  jig  on  your  back,  and  leave  room  for  the  piper 
besides." 

I  opened  the  window,  and  in  the  bright  moonlight  beheld 
the  party  leading  up  a  short,  rugged-looking  pony,  whose 
Dreadth  of  beam  and  square  proportions  fully  justified  all 
Joe's  encomiums. 

"  Have  you  bought  this  pony  for  me,  Joe  ?  "  cried  I. 

"jSTo,  sir,  only  borrowed  him.  He'll  take  you  up  to 
Wheley's  mills,  where  we'll  get  Andy's  mare  to-morrow- 
morning." 

"  Borrowed  him  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Where  's  his  owner  ?  " 

"  He 's  in  bed,  where  he  ought  to  be.  I  tould  him 
through  the  door  who  it  was  for,  and  that  he  need  n't  get 
up,  as  I  'd  find  the  ways  of  the  place  myself ;  and  ye  see  so 
I  did." 

"  Told  him  who  it  was  for !  Why,  he  never  heard  of  me 
in  his  life." 

"Devil  may  care;  sure  you're  the  priest's  friend,  and 
who  has  a  better  warrant  for  everything  in  the  place  ? 
Don't  you  know  the  song,  — 

" '  And  Father  Fitz  had  no  cows  nor  sheep, 
And  the  devil  a  hen  or  pig  to  keep ; 
But  a  pleasanter  house  to  dine  or  sleep 
You  'd  never  find  till  morning. 


THE  PRIEST'S  KITCHEN.  109 

"'For  Molly,  says  he,  if  the  fowls  be  few, 
I  've  only  one  counsel  to  give  to  you  : 
There's  hens  hard  by  —  go  kill  for  two, 
For  I  've  a  friend  till  morning.' 

By  the  rock  of  Cashel,  it  'ud  be  a  hard  case  av  the  priest 
was  to  want.  Look  how  the  ould  saddle  fits  him  !  faix, 
ye  'd  think  he  was  made  for  it ! " 

I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  felt  all  Joe's  enthusiasm  for 
the  beast 's  perfections  ;  nor  did  the  old  yeomanry  "  demi- 
pique,"  with  its  brass  mountings  and  holsters,  increase  my 
admiration.  Too  happy,  however,  to  leave  a  spot  where  all 
my  recollections  were  now  turned  to  gloom  and  despon- 
dence, I  packed  my  few  traps,  and  was  soon  ready  for  the 
road. 

It  was  not  without  a  gulping  feeling  in  my  throat,  and  a 
kind  of  suffocating  oppression  at  my  heart,  that  I  turned 
from  the  little  room  where  in  happier  times  I  had  spent  so 
many  pleasant  hours,  and  bidding  a  last  good-by  to  the 
priest's  household,  told  them  to  say  to  Father  Tom  how  sad 
I  felt  at  leaving  before  he  returned.  This  done,  I  mounted 
the  little  pony,  and  escorted  by  Joe,  who  held  the  bridle, 
descended  the  hill,  and  soon  found  myself  by  the  little 
rivulet  that  murmured  along  the  steep  glen  through  which 
our  path  was  lying. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

TIPPERARY    JOE. 

I  have  already  passingly  alluded  to  Joe's  conversational 
powers ;  and  certainly  they  were  exercised  on  this  occasion 
with  a  more  than  common  ability.  Either  taking  my 
silence  as  a  suggestion  for  him  to  speak,  or  perhaps,  and 
more  probably,  perceiving  that  some  deep  depression  was 
over  me,  the  kind-hearted  fellow  poured  forth  his  stores  of 
song  and  legend  without  ceasing.  Now  amusing  me  by  his 
wild  and  fitful  snatches  of  old  ballads,  now  narrating  in  his 
simple  but  touching  eloquence  some  bygone  story  of  thrill- 
ing interest,  the  long  hours  of  the  night  passed  over,  and  at 
daybreak  we  found  ourselves  descending  the  mountain  to- 
wards a  large  and  cultivated  valley,  in  which  I  could  faintly 
distinguish  in  the  misty  distance  the  little  mill  where  our 
relay  was  to  be  found. 

I  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  to  gaze  upon  the  scene 
before  me.  It  was  one  of  those  peaceful  landscapes  of 
rural  beauty  which  beam  more  of  soothing  influence  upon 
the  sorrow-struck  heart  than  the  softest  voice  of  consola- 
tion. Unlike  the  works  of  man,  they  speak  directly  to  our 
souls  while  they  appeal  to  our  reason ;  and  the  truth  comes 
forced  upon  us,  that  we  alone  must  not  repine.  A  broad 
and  richly  cultivated  valley  was  bounded  by  mountains 
whose  sides  were  clothed  with  deep  wood ;  a  stream,  whose 
wayward  course  watered  every  portion  of  the  plain,  was 
seen  now  flowing  among  the  grassy  meadows,  now  peeping 
from  the  alders  that  lined  the  banks.  The  heavy  mist  of 
morning  was  rolling  lazily  up  the  mountain-side  ;  and  be- 
neath its  gray  mantle  the  rich  green  of  pasture  and  meadow 
land  was  breaking  forth,  dotted  with  cattle  and  sheep.     As 


TIPrERARY  JOE.  Ill 

I  looked,  Joe  knelt  down  and  placed  his  ear  upon  the 
ground,  and  seemed  for  some  minutes  absorbed  in  listening. 
Then  suddenly  springing  up,  he  cried  out,  — 

"  The  mill  is  n't  going  to-day  !  I  wonder  what 's  the 
matter.     1  hope  Andy  isn't  sick." 

A  shade  of  sorrow  came  over  his  wild  features  as  he  mut- 
tered between  his  teeth  the  verse  of  some  old  song,  of  which 
I  could  but  catch  the  last  two  lines,  — 

"  And  when  friends  are  crying  around  the  dying, 
Who  would  n't  wish  he  had  lived  alone  !  " 

"Ay,"  cried  he  aloud,  as  his  eye  glistened  with  an  un- 
natural lustre,  "  better  be  poor  Tipperary  Joe,  without 
house  or  home,  father  or  mother,  sister  or  friend,  and 
when  the  time  comes,  run  to  earth,  without  a  wet  eye 
after  him." 

"  Come,  come,  Joe,  you  have  many  a  friend !  and  when 
you  count  them  over,  don't  forget  me  in  the  reckoning." 

"  Whisht,  whisht !  "  he  whispered  in  a  low  voice,  as  if 
fearful  of  being  overheard,  "  don't  say  that ;  them 's  dan- 
gerous words." 

I  turned  towards  him  with  astonishment,  and  perceived 
that  his  whole  countenance  had  undergone  a  striking  change. 
The  gay  and  laughing  look  was  gone ;  the  bright  color  had 
left  his  cheek,  and  a  cold,  ghastly  paleness  was  spread  over 
his  features  ;  and  as  he  cast  a  hurried  and  stealthy  look 
around  him,  I  could  mark  that  some  secret  fear  was  work- 
ing within  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Joe  ?  "  said  I ;  "  what 's  the  matter  ?  Are 
you  ill  ?  " 

"No,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  scarce  audible,  —  "no,  but  you 
frightened  me  just  now  when  you  called  me  your  friend." 

"  How  could  that  frighten  you,  my  poor  fellow  ?  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you.  That 's  what  they  called  my  father ;  they 
said  he  was  friendly  with  the  gentlemen,  and  sign 's  on  it." 
He  paused,  and  his  eye  became  rooted  to  the  ground  as  if 
on  some  object  there  from  which  he  could  not  turn  his  gaze. 
"  Yes,  I  mind  it  well ;    we  were  sitting  by  the  fire  in  the 


112  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

guard-room  all  alone  by  ourselves,  —  the  troops  was  away, 
I  don't  know  where,  —  when  we  heard  the  tramp  of  men 
marching,  but  not  regular,  but  coming  as  if  they  did  n't 
care  how,  and  horses  and  carts  rattling  and  rumbling 
among  them. 

"'Thim  's  the  boys,'  says  my  father.  'Give  me  that  ould 
cockade  there,  till  I  stick  it  in  my  cap ;  and  reach  me  over 
the  fiddle,  till  I  rise  a  tune  for  them.' 

"  I  mind  little  more  till  we  was  marching  at  the  head  of 
them  through  the  town,  down  towards  the  new  college  that 
was  building,  —  it 's  Maynooth,  I  'm  speaking  about,  —  and 
then  we  turned  to  the  left,  my  father  scraping  away  all  the 
time  every  tune  he  thought  they  'd  like  ;  and  if  now  and 
then  by  mistake  he'd  play  anything  that  did  not  plaze 
them,  they'd  damn  and  blast  him  with  the  dreadfullest 
curses,  and  stick  a  pike  into  him,  till  the  blood  would 
come  running  down  his  back;  and  then  my  father  would 
cry  out,  — 

" '  I  '11  tell  my  friends  on  you  for  this,  —  divil  a  lie  in  it, 
but  I  will.' 

"  At  last  we  came  to  the  duke's  wall,  and  then  my  father 
sat  down  on  the  roadside,  and  cried  out  that  he  would  n't  go 
a  step  farther,  for  I  was  crying  away  with  sore  feet  at  the 
pace  we  were  going,  and  asking  every  minute  to  be  let  sit 
down  to  rest  myself. 

"  '  Look  at  the  child,'  said  he,  '  his  feet 's  all  bleeding.' 

"  <  Ye  have  only  a  little  farther  to  go,'  says  one  of  them 
that  had  crossed  belts  on  and  a  green  sash  about  him. 

" '  The  divil  resave  another  step,'  says  my  father. 

"  <  Tell  Billy  to  play  us  "  The  Farmer's  Daughter  "  before 
he  goes,'  says  one  in  the  crowd. 

"  '  I  'd  rather  hear  "  The  Little  Bowld  Fox,"  '  says 
another. 

"  '  No,  no,  "  Baltiorum  !  Baltiorum  ! "  '  says  many  more 
behind. 

"  '  Ye  shall  have  them  all,'  says  my  father,  '  and  that  '11 
plaze  ye.' 

"  And  so  he  set  to,  and  played  the  three  tunes  as  beauti- 


TIPPERARY  JOE.  113 

ful  as  ever  ye  heard ;  and  when  he  was  done,  the  man  with 
the  belts  ups  and  says  to  him,  — 

'"  Ye  're  a  fine  hand,  Billy,  and  it 's  a  pity  to  lose  you,  and 
your  friends  will  be  sorry  for  you,'  and  he  said  this  with  a 
grin ;  '  but  take  the  spade  there  and  dig  a  hole,  for  we  must 
be  jogging,  it 's  nigh  day.' 

"  Well,  my  father,  though  he  was  tired  enough,  took  the 
spade,  and  began  digging  as  they  told  him ;  for  he  thought 
to  himself,  '  The  boys  is  going  to  hide  the  pikes  and  the 
carbines  before  they  go  home.'  Well,  when  he  worked  half 
an  hour,  he  threw  off  his  coat,  and  set  to  again ;  and  at  last 
he  grew  tired  and  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  big  hole,  and 
called  out,  — 

"  '  Is  n't  it  big  enough  now,  boys  ? ' 

" '  No,'  says  the  captain,  '  nor  half.' 

"  So  my  father  set  to  once  more,  and  worked  away  with 
all  his  might ;  and  they  all  stood  by,  talking  and  laughing 
with  one  another. 

"  '  Will  it  do  now  ?  '  says  my  father  ;  <  for  sure  enough 
I  'm  clean  beat.' 

" '  Maybe  it  might,'  says  one  of  them ;  '  lie  down,  and 
see  if  it 's  the  length.' 

" '  Well,  is  it  that  it 's  for  ? '  says  my  father ;  '  faix,  I 
never  guessed  it  was  a  grave.'  And  so  he  took  off  his  cap 
and  lay  down  his  full  length  in  the  hole. 

"  '  That 's  all  right,'  says  the  others,  and  began  with 
spades  and  shovels  to  cover  him  up.  At  first  he  laughed 
away  as  hearty  as  the  rest ;  but  when  the  mould  grew 
heavy  on  him  he  began  to  screech  out  to  let  him  up ;  and 
then  his  voice  grew  weaker  and  fainter,  and  they  waited  a 
little ;  then  they  worked  harder,  and  then  came  a  groan,  and 
all  was  still ;  and  they  patted  the  sods  over  him  and  heaped 
them  up.  And  then  they  took  me  and  put  me  in  the 
middle  of  them,  and  one  called  out,  '  March  ! '  I  thought  I 
saw  the  green  sod  moving  on  the  top  of  the  grave  as  we 
walked  away,  and  heard  a  voice  half  choking  calling  out, 
'  There,  boys,  there  ! '  and  then  a  laugh.     But  sure  I  often 

VOL.  II.  —8 


114  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

hear  the  sara^  still,  when  there  's  nobody  near  me,  and  I  do 
be  looking  on  the  ground  by  myself." 

"  Great  God  ! "  cried  I,  "  is  this  true  ?  " 

"  True  as  you  're  there,"  replied  he.  "  I  was  ten  years 
of  age  when  it  happened,  and  I  never  knew  how  time  went 
since,  nor  how  long  it  is  ago ;  only  it  was  in  the  year  of  the 
great  troubles  here,  when  the  soldiers  and  the  country 
people  never  could  be  cruel  enough  to  one  another;  and 
whatever  one  did  to-day,  the  others  would  try  to  beat  it  out 
to-morrow.  But  it 's  truth  every  word  of  it ;  and  the  place 
is  called  '  Billy  the  fool's  grave '  to  this  hour.  I  go  there 
once  a  year  to  see  it  myself." 

This  frightful  story  —  told,  too,  with  all  the  simple  power 
of  truth — thrilled  through  me  with  horror  long  after  the 
impression  seemed  to  have  faded  away  from  him  who  told 
it ;  and  though  he  still  continued  to  speak  on,  I  heard  noth- 
ing ;  nor  did  I  mark  our  progress,  until  I  found  myself 
beside  the  little  stream  which  conducted  to  the  mill. 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

THE    HIGH-ROAD. 

Joe  was  right ;  the  mill  was  not  at  work,  for  "  Andy  " 
had  been  summoned  to  Ennis,  where  the  assizes  were  then 
going  forward.  The  mare  which  had  formed  part  of  our 
calculations  was  also  absent;  and  we  sat  down  in  the  little 
porch  to  hold  a  council  of  war  as  to  our  future  proceedings. 
After  canvassing  the  question  for  some  time,  Joe  left  me 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  returned  with  the  information  that 
the  high-road  to  Ennis  lay  only  a  couple  of  miles  distant, 
and  that  a  stage-coach  would  pass  there  in  about  two  hours, 
by  which  I  could  reach  the  town  that  evening.  It  was 
therefore  decided  that  he  should  return  with  the  pony  to 
Murranakilty  ;  while  I,  having  procured  a  gossoon  to  carry 
my  baggage,  made  the  best  of  my  way  towards  the  Ennis 
road. 

Joe  soon  found  me  an  urchin  to  succeed  him  as  my 
guide  and  companion ;  and  with  an  affectionate  leave- 
taking,  and  a  faithful  promise  to  meet  me  sometime  and 
somewhere,  we  parted. 

So  long  as  I  had  journeyed  along  beside  my  poor,  half- 
witted follower,  the  strange  and  fickle  features  of  his  wan- 
dering intellect  had  somehow  interrupted  the  channels  of 
my  own  feelings,  and  left  me  no  room  for  reflection  on  my 
changed  fortunes.  Now,  however,  my  thoughts  returned  to 
the  past  with  all  the  force  of  some  dammed-up  current,  and 
my  blighted  hopes  threw  a  dark  and  sombre  shadow  over 
all  my  features.  What  cared  I  what  became  of  me  ?  Why 
did  I  hasten  hither  and  thither  ?  These  were  my  first  re- 
flections. If  life  had  lost  its  charm,  so  had  misfortune  its 
terror  for  me.     There  seemed  something  frivolous  and  con- 


116  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

temptible  in  the  return  to  those  duties  which  in  all  the 
bouyant  exhilaration  of  my  former  life  had  ever  seemed 
unfitting  and  unmanly.  No !  rather  let  me  seek  for  some 
employment  on  active  service.  The  soldier's  career  I  once 
longed  for,  to  taste  its  glorious  enthusiasm,  —  that  I  wished 
for  now,  to  enjo}r  its  ceaseless  movement  and  exertion. 

As  I  thought  over  all  I  had  seen  and  gone  through  since 
my  arrival  in  Ireland, — its  varied  scenes  of  mirth  and 
woe  ;  its  reckless  pleasures,  its  wilder  despair,  —  I  believed 
that  I  had  acquired  a  far  deeper  insight  into  my  own  heart 
in  proportion  as  I  looked  more  into  those  of  others.  A  not 
unfrequent  error  this.  The  outstretched  page  of  human 
nature  that  I  had  been  gazing  on  had  shown  me  the  pas- 
sions and  feelings  of  other  men  laid  bare  before  me,  while 
my  own  heart  lay  dark,  enshrined,  and  unvisited  within 
me.  I  believed  that  life  had  no  longer  anything  to  tie  me 
to  it,  —  and  I  was  not  then  twenty  !  Had  I  counted  double 
as  many  years,  I  had  had  more  reason  for  the  belief,  and 
more  difficulty  to  think  so. 

Sometimes  I  endeavored  to  console  myself  by  thinking 
of  all  the  obstacles  that  under  the  happiest  circumstances 
must  have  opposed  themselves  to  my  union  with  Louisa 
Belle w.  My  mother's  pride  alone  seemed  an  insurmount- 
able one.  But  then  I  thought  of  what  a  noble  part  had 
lain  before  me,  to  prefer  the  object  of  my  love  — the  prize 
of  my  own  winning  —  to  all  the  caresses  of  fortune,  all  the 
seductions  of  the  world.  Sir  Simon  Bellew,  too,  —  what 
could  he  mean  ?  The  secret  he  alluded  to,  what  was  it  ? 
Alas  !  what  mattered  it  ?  My  doom  was  sealed,  my  fate 
decided ;  I  had  no  care  for  how  ! 

Such  were  my  thoughts  as  I  journeyed  along  the  path 
that  conducted  towards  the  high-road;  while  my  little 
guide,  bare-legged  and  bare-footed,  trotted  on  merrily  be- 
fore me,  who  with  none  of  this  world's  goods  had  no  room 
in  his  heart  for  sorrow  or  repining. 

We  at  last  reached  the  road,  which,  dusty  and  deserted, 
skirted  the  side  of  a  bleak  mountain  for  miles,  —  not  a 
house  to  be  seen ;  not  a  traveller,  nor  scarce  a  wheel-track, 


THE  HIGH-ROAD.  117 

to  mark  the  course  of  any  one  having  passed  there.  I  had 
not  followed  it  for  more  than  half  an  hour  when  I  heard 
the  tramp  of  horses  and  the  roll  which  announced  the 
approach  of  an  equipage.  A  vast  cloud  of  dust,  through 
which  a  pair  of  leaders  were  alone  visible,  appeared  at  a 
distance.  I  seated  myself  at  the  roadside  to  await  its  com- 
ing, my  little  gossoon  beside  me,  evidently  not  sorry  to 
have  reached  a  resting-place  ;  and  once  more  my  thoughts 
returned  to  their  well-worn  channel,  and  my  head  sank  on 
my  bosom.  I  forgot  where  I  was,  when  suddenly  the 
prancing  of  a  pair  of  horses  close  to  me  aroused  me  from 
my  stupor,  and  a  postilion  called  out  to  me  in  no  very 
subdued  accent, — 

"  Will  ye  hook  on  that  trace  there,  avick,  av  ye  're  not 
asleep  ?  " 

Whether  it  was  my  look  of  astonishment  at  the  tone  and 
the  nature  of  the  request,  or  delay  in  acceding  to  it,  I  know 
not;  but  a  hearty  curse  from  the  fellow  on  the  wheelers 
perfectly  awakened  me,  and  I  replied  by  something  not  ex- 
actly calculated  to  appease  the  heat  of  the  discussion. 

"  Be  gorra,"  said  he  of  the  leaders,  "  it 's  always  the  way 
with  your  shabby  genteels  ! "  and  he  swung  himself  down 
from  the  saddle  to  perform  the  required  service  himself. 

During  this  operation  I  took  the  opportunity  of  looking 
at  the  carriage,  which  was  a  large  and  handsome  barouche, 
surrounded  by  all  the  appurtenances  of  travel,  —  cap-cases, 
imperials,  etc. ;  a  fat-looking,  lazy  footman  was  nodding 
sleepily  on  the  box,  and  a  well-tanned  lady's  maid  was 
reading  a  novel  in  the  rumble.  Within  I  saw  the  figure  of 
a  lady,  whose  magnificent  style  of  dress  but  little  accorded 
with  the  unfrequented  road  she  was  traversing  and  the  wild 
inhabitants  so  thinly  scattered  through  it.  As  I  looked, 
she  turned  round  suddenly ;  and,  before  I  could  recognize 
her,  she  called  out  my  name.  The  voice  in  an  instant  re- 
assured me :  it  was  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney  herself ! 

"  Stop ! "  cried  she,  with  a  wave  of  her  jewelled  hand. 
"Michael,  get  down.  Only  think  of  meeting  you  here, 
Captain ! " 


118  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

I  stammered  out  some  explanation  about  a  cross-cut  over 
the  mountain  to  catch  the  stage,  and  my  desire  to  reach 
Ennis  ;  while  the  unhappy  termination  of  our  intimacy,  and 
my  mother's  impertinent  letter  kept  ever  uppermost  in  my 
mind,  and  made  me  confused  and  uneasy.  Mrs.  Paul,  how- 
ever, had  evidently  no  participation  in  such  feelings,  but 
welcomed  me  with  her  wonted  cordiality,  and  shook  my 
hand  with  a  warmth  that  proved,  if  she  had  not  forgotten, 
she  had  certainly  forgiven,  the  whole  affair. 

"  And  so  you  are  going  to  Ennis  !  "  said  she,  as  I  assumed 
the  place  beside  her  in  the  barouche,  while  Michael  was 
busily  engaged  in  fastening  on  my  luggage  behind,  —  the 
which  two  movements  seeming  to  be  as  naturally  performed 
as  though  the  amiable  lady  had  been  in  the  habit  of  taking 
up  walking  gentlemen  with  a  portmanteau  every  day  of  her 
life.  "  Well,  how  fortunate  !  I  'm  going  there  too.  Pole 
[so  she  now  designated  her  excellent  spouse,  it  being  the 
English  for  Paul]  has  some  little  business  with  the  chief- 
justice,  —  two  murder  cases,  and  a  forcible  abduction,  — 
and  I  promised  to  take  him  up  on  my  return  from  Miltown, 
where  I  have  been  spending  a  few  weeks.  After  that  we 
return  to  our  little  place  near  Bray,  where  I  hope  you  '11 
come  and  spend  a  few  weeks  with  us." 

"  This  great  pleasure  I  fear  I  must  deny  myself,"  said  I, 
"  for  I  have  already  outstayed  my  leave,  and  have  unfortu- 
nately somehow  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  Excellency  ; 
and  unless,"  —  here  I  dropped  my  voice,  and  stole  a  half 
timid  look  at  the  lady  under  my  eye-lashes,  —  "  some  one 
with  influence  over  his  Grace  shall  interfere  on  my  behalf, 
I  begin  to  fear  lest  I  may  find  myself  in  a  sad  scrape." 

Mrs.  Paul  blushing,  turned  away  her  head ;  and  while 
pressing  my  hand  softly  in  her  own,  she  murmured,  — 

"  Don't  fret  about  it ;  it  won't  signify." 

I  could  scarce  repress  a  smile  at  the  success  of  my  bit  of 
flattery,  for  as  such  alone  I  intended  it,  when  she  turned 
towards  me,  and,  as  if  desirous  to  change  the  topic, 
said,  — 

"Well,  we  heard  of  all  your  doings, — your  steeple-chase 


THE   IIIGII-ROAD.  119 

and  your  duel  and  your  wound,  and  all  that;  but  what 
became  of  you  afterwards  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  hesitatingly,  "  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
make  a  mast  agreeable  acquaintance,  and  with  him  I  have 
been  spending  a  few  weeks  on  the  coast, — Father  Tom 
Loftus." 

"Father  Tom ! "  said  Mrs.  Rooney  with  a  laugh,  —  "  the 
pleasantest  crayture  in  Ireland !  There  is  n't  the  like  of 
him.  Did  he  sing  you  the  '  Priest's  Supper  ? '  "  The  lady 
blushed  as  she  said  these  words,  as  if  carried  away  by  a 
momentary  excitement  to  speak  of  matters  not  exactly 
suitable ;  and  then  drawing  herself  up,  she  continued  in  a 
more  measured  tone  :  "  You  know,  Captain,  one  meets  such 
strange  people  in  this  world." 

"  To  be  sure,  Mrs.  Rooney,"  said  I,  encouragingly ;  "  and 
to  one  like  yourself,  who  can  appreciate  character,  Father 
Loftus  is  indeed  a  gem." 

Mrs.  Rooney,  however,  only  smiled  her  assent,  and  again 
changed  the  course  of  the  conversation. 

"  You  met  the  Bellews,  I  suppose,  when  down  in  the 
west  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  stammered  I ;  "  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  Sir  Simon 
when  in  that  country." 

"  Ah,  the  poor  man  !  "  said  she  with  real  feeling,  "  what 
an  unhappy  lot  his  has  been  ! " 

Supposing  that  she  alluded  to  his  embarrassment  as  to 
fortune,  the  difficulties  which  pressed  upon  him  from 
money  causes,  I  merely  muttered  my  assent. 

"But  I  suppose,"  continued  she,  '-'you  hr„ve  heard  the 
whole  story,  though  the  unhappy  event  occurred  when  you 
were  a  mere  child." 

"I  am  not  aware  to  what  you  allude,"  said  I,  eagerly, 
while  a  suspicion  shot  across  my  mind  that  the  secret 
of  Sir  Simon  Bellew's  letter  was  at  length  to  be  cleared 
up. 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Rooney  with  a  sigh,  "I  mean  poor  dear 
Lady  Bellew's  affair,  —  when  she  went  away  with  a  major 
of  dragoons ;  and  to  be  sure  an  elegant  young  man  he  was, 


120  JACK  HINTON,  THE    GUARDSMAN. 

they  said.  Pole  was  on  the  inquest,  and  I  heard  him  say 
he  was  the  handsomest  man  he  ever  saw  in  his  life." 

"  He  died  suddenly,  then  ?  " 

"  He  was  shot  by  Sir  Simon  in  a  duel  the  very  day-week 
after  the  elopement." 

"  And  she  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Poor  thing !  she  died  of  a  consumption,  or  some  say  a 
broken  heart,  the  same  summer." 

"  That  is  a  sad  story,  indeed,"  said  I,  musingly ;  "  and  I 
no  longer  wonder  that  the  poor  old  man  should  be  such 
as  he  is." 

"  No,  indeed ;  but  then  he  was  very  much  blamed  after 
all,  for  he  never  had  that  Jerningham  out  of  the  house." 

"  Horace  Jerningham !  "  cried  I,  as  a  cold  sickening  fear 
crept  over  me. 

"Oh,  yes,  that  was  his  name.  He  was  the  Honorable 
Horace  Jerningham,  the  younger  son  of  some  very  high 
family  in  England ;  and,  indeed,  the  elder  brother  has  died 
since,  and  they  say  the  title  has  become  extinct." 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  attempt  any  description  of  the 
feelings  that  agitated  my  heart,  when  I  say  that  Horace 
Jerningham  was  the  brother  of  my  own  mother.  I  remem- 
bered when  a  child  to  have  heard  something  of  a  dread- 
ful duel,  when  all  the  family  went  into  deep  mourning, 
and  my  mother's  health  suffered  so  severely  that  her  life 
was  at  one  time  feared  for;  but  that  fate  should  have 
ever  thrown  me  into  intimacy  with  those  upon  whom 
this  grievous  injury  was  inflicted,  and  by  whom  death 
and  mourning  were  brought  upon  my  house,  was  a  sad 
and  overwhelming  affliction  that  rendered  me  stunned  and 
speechless.  How  came  it  then,  thought  I,  that  my  mother 
never  recognized  the  name  of  her  brother's  antagonist  when 
speaking  of  Miss  Bellew  in  her  letter  to  me?  Before  I 
had  time  to  revolve  this  doubt  in  my  mind  Mrs.  Rooney 
had  explained  it. 

"And  this  was  the  beginning  of  all  his  misfortunes.  The 
friends  of  the  poor  young  man  were  people  of  great  influ- 
ence, and  set  every  engine  to  work  to  ruin  Sir  Simon,  or, 


THE   HIGH-ROAD.  121 

as  he  then  was,  Mr.  Simon  Barrington.  At  last  they  got 
him  outlawed ;  and  it  was  only  the  very  year  he  came  to  the 
title  and  estates  of  his  uncle  that  the  outlawry  was  taken 
off,  and  he  was  once  more  enabled  to  return  to  Ireland. 
However,  they  had  their  revenge  if  they  wished  for  it; 
for  what  between  recklessness  and  bad  company,  he  took 
to  gambling  when  abroad,  contracted  immense  debts,  and 
came  into  his  fortune  little  better  than  a  beggar.  Since 
then  the  world  has  seen  little  of  him,  and  indeed  he  owes 
it  but  little  favor.  Under  Pole's  management  the  property 
is  now  rapidly  improving ;  but  the  old  man  cares  little  for 
this,  and  all  I  believe  he  wishes  for  is  to  have  health  enough 
to  go  over  to  the  Continent  and  place  his  daughter  in  a  con- 
vent before  he  dies." 

Little  did  she  guess  how  every  word  sank  deep  into  my 
heart.  Every  sentence  of  the  past  was  throwing  its  shadow 
over  all  my  future,  and  the  utter  wreck  of  my  hopes  seemed 
now  inevitable. 

While  thus  I  sat  brooding  over  my  gloomiest  thoughts, 
Mrs.  Rooney,  evidently  affected  by  the  subject,  maintained 
a  perfect  silence.  At  last,  however,  she  seemed  to  have 
summed  up  the  whole  case  in  her  mind,  as  turning  to  me 
confidentially,  with  her  hand  pressed  upon  my  arm,  she 
added  in  a  true  moralizing  cadence,  very  different  from 
that  she  had  employed  when  her  feelings  were  really 
engaged,  — 

"  And  that 's  what  always  comes  of  it  when  a  gallant, 
gay  Lutherian  gets  admission  into  a  family." 

Shall  I  confess,  that,  notwithstanding  the  deep  sorrow  of 
my  heart,  I  could  scarce  repress  an  outbreak  of  laughter  at 
these  words !  We  now  chatted  away  on  a  variety  of  sub- 
jects, till  the  concourse  of  people  pressing  onwards  to  the 
town,  the  more  thickly  populated  country,  and  the  distant 
view  of  chimneys  apprised  us  we  were  approaching  Ennis. 
Notwithstanding  all  my  wishes  to  get  on  as  fast  as  might 
be,  I  found  it  impossible  to  resist  an  invitation  to  dine 
that   day   with   the   Eooneys,   who   had   engaged   a   small 


122  JACK   HINTOX,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

select  party  at  the  Head  Inn,  where  Mrs.  Rooney's  apart- 
ments were  already  awaiting  her. 

It  was  dusk  when  we  arrived,  and  I  could  only  perceive 
that  the  gloomy  and  narrow  streets  were  densely  crowded 
with  country  people,  who  conversed  together  in  groups. 
Here  and  there  a  knot  of  legal  folk  were  congregated, 
chatting  in  a  louder  tone  ;  and  before  the  court  house  stood 
the  carriage  of  the  chief-justice,  with  a  guard  of  honor  of 
the  county  yeomanry,  whose  unsoldierlike  attitudes  and 
droll  equipments  were  strongly  provocative  of  laughter. 
The  postilions,  who  had  with  true  tact  reserved  a  "trot 
for  the  town,"  whipped  and  spurred  with  all  their  might ; 
and  as  we  drove  through  the  thronged  streets  a  strange 
impression  fled  abroad  that  we  were  the  bearers  of  a  re- 
prieve, and  a  hearty  cheer  from  the  mob  followed  us  to 
our  arrival  at  the  inn-door,  —  a  compliment  which  Mrs. 
Paul  in  nowise  attributing  to  anything  save  her  own  pe- 
culiar charms  and  deserts,  most  graciously  acknowledged 
by  a  smile  and  a  wave  of  her  hand,  accompanied  by  an 
unlimited  order  for  small  beer,  —  which  act  of  grace  was, 
I  think,  even  more  popular  than  their  first  impression 
concerning  us. 

"  Ah,  Captain,"  said  the  lady  with  a  compassionate  smile, 
as  I  handed  her  out  of  the  carriage,  "  they  are  so  attached 
to  the  aristocracy ! " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    ASSIZE    TOWN. 

When  I  had  dressed,  I  found  that  I  had  above  an  hour 
to  spare  before  dinner ;  so  taking  my  hat  I  strolled  out  into 
the  town.  The  streets  were  even  more  crowded  now  than 
before.  The  groups  of  country  people  were  larger,  and  as 
they  conversed  together  in  their  native  tongue,  with  all  the 
violent  gesticulation  and  energetic  passion  of  their  uature, 
an  inexperienced  spectator  might  well  have  supposed  them 
engaged  in  active  strife.  Now  and  then  a  kind  of  move- 
ment, a  species  of  suppressed  murmur  from  the  court  house, 
would  turn  every  eye  in  that  direction;  and  then  every 
voice  was  hushed,  not  a  man  moved.  It  was  evident  that 
some  trial  of  the  deepest  interest  was  going  forward,  and 
on  inquiry  I  learned  that  it  was  a  murder  case,  in  which 
six  men  were  concerned.  I  heard  also  that  the  only  evi- 
dence against  them  was  from  one  of  their  own  party,  who 
had  turned,  as  the  lawyers  term  it,  "approver."  I  knew 
well  that'no  circumstance  was  more  calculated  than  this  to 
call  forth  all  that  is  best  and  worst  in  Irish  character,  and 
thought,  as  I  walked  along  through  the  dense  crowd,  I 
could  trace  in  the  features  around  me  the  several  emotions 
by  which  they  were  moved. 

Here  was  an  old  gray-headed  man  leaning  on  a  staff,  his 
lack-lustre  eyes  gazing  in  wonder  at  some  speaker  who  nar- 
rated a  portion  of  the  trial,  his  face  all  eagerness,  and  his 
hands  tremulous  with  anxiety ;  but  I  felt  I  could  read  the 
deep  sorrow  of  his  heart  as  he  listened  to  the  deed  of  blood, 
and  wondered  how  men  would  risk  their  tenure  of  a  life 
which  in  a  few  days  more,  perhaps,  he  himself  was  to  leave 
forever.     Here  beside  him  was  a  tall  and  powerfully-built 


124  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

countryman,  his  hat  drawn  upon  his  eyes,  that  peered  forth 
from  their  shadow  dark,  lustrous,  and  almost  wild  in  their 
expression ;  his  face,  tanned  by  season  and  exposure,  was 
haggard  and  care-worn,  and  in  his  firmly-clinched  lips  and 
fast-locked  jaw  you  could  read  the  resolute  purpose  of  one 
who  could  listen  to  nothing  save  the  promptings  of  the 
spirit  of  vengeance,  and  his  determination  that  blood  should 
have  blood.  Some  there  were  whose  passionate  tones  and 
violent  gestures  showed  that  all  their  sympathy  for  the 
prisoners  was  merged  in  the  absorbing  feeling  of  detesta- 
tion for  the  informer ;  and  you  could  mark  in  such  groups 
as  these  that  more  women  were  mingled,  whose  blood-shot 
eyes  and  convulsed  features  made  them  appear  the  very 
demons  of  strife  itself.  But  the  most  painful  sight  of  all 
was  the  children  who  were  assembled  around  every  knot  of 
speakers,  their  eyes  staring,  and  their  ears  eagerly  drinking 
in  each  word  that  dropped ;  no  trace  of  childhood's  happy 
carelessness  was  there,  no  sign  of  that  light-hearted  youth 
that  knows  no  lasting  sorrow.  No,  theirs  were  the  rigid 
features  of  intense  passion,  in  which  fear,  suspicion,  craft, 
but  above  all  the  thirst  for  revenge,  were  writ.  There 
were  some  whose  clinched  hand  and  darkened  brow  be- 
tokened the  gloomy  purpose  of  their  hearts ;  there  were 
others  whose  outpoured  wrath  heaped  curses  on  him  who 
had  betrayed  his  fellows.  There  was  grief,  violent,  wild, 
and  frantic ;  there  was  mute  and  speechless  suffering ;  but 
not  a  tear  did  I  see,  not  even  on  the  cheek  of  childhood  or 
of  woman.  No  !  their  seared  and  withered  sorrow  no  dew 
of  tears  had  ever  watered ;  like  a  blighting  simoom  the 
spirit  of  revenge  had  passed  over  them,  and  scorched  and 
scathed  all  the  verdant  charities  of  life.  The  law,  which 
in  other  lands  is  looked  to  for  protection  and  security,  was 
regarded  by  them  as  an  instrument  of  tyranny;  they 
neither  understood  its  spirit  nor  trusted  its  decisions  ;  and 
when  its  blow  fell  upon  them,  they  bent  their  heads  in 
mournful  submission,  to  raise  them  when  opportunity  of- 
fered in  wild  and  stern  defiance.  Its  denunciations  came 
to  them  sudden  and  severe ;  they  deemed  the  course  of  jus- 


THE  ASSIZE  TOWN.  125 

tlce  wayward  and  capricious,  the  only  feature  of  certainty 
in  its  operation  being  that  its  victim  was  ever  the  poor 
man.  The  passionate  elements  of  their  wild  natures 
seemed  but  ill-adapted  to  the  slow-sustained  current  of 
legal  investigation  ;  they  looked  upon  all  the  details  of  evi- 
dence as  the  signs  of  vindictive  malice,  and  thought  that 
trickery  and  deceit  were  brought  in  arms  against  them. 
Hence  each  face  among  the  thousands  there  bore  the  traces 
of  that  hardened,  dogged  suffering  that  tells  us  that  the 
heart  is  rather  steeled  with  the  desire  to  avenge  than 
bowed  to  weep  over  the  doomed. 

Before  the  court  house  a  detachment  of  soldiers  was 
drawn  up  under  arms,  their  unmoved  features  and  fixed 
attitudes  presenting  a  strange  contrast  to  the  excited  ex- 
pressions and  changeful  gestures  of  those  about  them. 
The  crowd  at  this  part  was  thickest,  and  I  could  perceive 
in  their  eager  looks  and  mute  expressions  that  something 
more  than  common  had  attracted  their  attention.  My  own 
interest  was,  however,  directed  in  another  quarter ;  for 
through  the  open  window  of  the  court  house  I  could  hear 
the  words  of  a  speaker,  whom  I  soon  recognized  as  the 
council  for  the  prisoner  addressing  the  jury.  My  foraging 
cap  passed  me  at  once  through  the  ranks,  and  after  some 
little  crushing  I  succeeded  in  gaining  admission  to  the  body 
of  the  court. 

Such  was  the  crowd  within,  I  could  see  nothing  but  the 
heads  of  a  closely-wedged  mass  of  people,  save  at  the  dis- 
tant part  of  the  court  the  judges,  and  to  their  right  the 
figure  of  the  pleader,  whose  back  was  turned  towards  me. 

Little  as  I  heard  of  the  speech,  I  was  overwhelmed  with 
surprise  at  what  I  did  hear.  Touching  on  the  evidence  of 
the  "  approver  "  but  slightly,  the  advocate  dwelt  with  a  ter- 
rific force  upon  the  degraded  character  of  a  man  who  could 
trade  upon  the  blood  of  his  former  friends  and  associates. 
Scarce  stopping  to  canvass  how  the  testimony  bore  home 
upon  the  prisoner,  he  burst  forth  into  an  impassioned  ap- 
peal to  the  hearts  of  the  jury  on  faith  betrayed  and  vows 
forsworn,  and  pictured  forth  the  man  who  could  thus  sur- 


126  JACK   HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

render  his  fellows  to  the  scaffold  as  a  monster  whose  evi- 
dence no  man  could  trust,  no  jury  confide  in ;  and  when  he 
had  thus  heightened  the  coloring  of  his  description  by  every 
power  of  an  eloquence  that  made  the  very  building  ring, 
he  turned  suddenly  towards  the  informer  himself,  as,  pale, 
wan,  and  conscience-stricken,  he  cowered  beneath  the  light- 
ning glance  from  an  eye  that  seemed  to  pierce  his  secret 
soul  within  him,  and  apostrophizing  his  virtues,  he  directed 
every  glance  upon  the  miserable  wretch  that  writhed  be- 
neath his  sarcasm.  This  seemed,  indeed,  the  speaker's  forte. 
Never  did  I  hear  anything  so  tremendous  as  the  irony  with 
which  he  described  the  credit  due  to  one  who  had  so  often 
been  sworn  and  forsworn,  —  "  who  took  an  oath  of  allegiance 
to  his  king,  and  an  oath  of  fealty  to  his  fellows,  and  now  is 
here  this  day  with  a  third  oath,  by  which,  in  the  blood  of 
his  victim,  he  is  to  ratify  his  perjury  to  both,  and  secure 
himself  an  honorable  independence."  The  caustic  satire 
verged  once  —  only  once  —  on  something  that  produced  a 
laugh,  when  the  orator  suddenly  stopped :  — 

"  I  find,  my  lord,  I  have  raised  a  smile.  God  knows,  never  did  I 
feel  less  merriment.  Let  me  not  be  condemned.  Let  not  the  laugh 
be  mistaken.  Few  are  those  events  that  are  produced  by  folly  and 
vice  that  fire  the  hearts  with  indignation,  but  something  in  them  will 
shake,  the  sides  with  laughter.  So,  when  the  two  famous  moralists 
of  old  beheld  the  sad  spectacle  of  Life,  the  one  burst  into  laughter, 
the  other  melted  into  tears.  They  were  each  of  them  right,  and 
equally  right.  But  these  laughs  are  the  bitter,  rueful  laughs  of  hon- 
est indignation,  or  they  are  the  laughs  of  hectic  melancholy  and  des- 
pair.    But  look  there,  and  tell  me  where  is  your  laughter  now!  " 

With  these  words  he  turned  fully  round  and  pointed  his 
finger  to  the  dock,  where  the  six  prisoners  side  by  side 
leaned  their  haggard,  death-like  faces  upon  the  rail,  and 
gazed  with  stupid  wonder  at  the  scene  before  them.  Four 
of  the  number  did  not  even  know  the  language,  but  seemed 
by  the  instinct  of  their  position  to  feel  the  nature  of  the 
appeal  their  advocate  was  making,  and  turned  their  eyes 
around  the  court  as  if  in  search  of  some  one  look  of  pity  or 
encouragement  that  should  bring  comfort  to  their  hearts. 


THE  ASSIZE  TOWN.  127 

The  whole  thing  was  too  dreadful  to  bear  longer,  so  I 
forced  my  way  through  the  crowd,  and  at  last  reached  the 
steps  in  front  of  the  building.  But  here  a  new  object  of 
horror  presented  itself,  and  one  which  to  this  hour  I  cannot 
chase  from  before  me.  In  the  open  space  between  the  line 
formed  by  the  soldiers  and  the  court  knelt  a  woman,  whose 
tattered  garments  scarce  covered  a  figure  emaciated  nearly 
to  starvation ;  her  cheeks,  almost  blue  with  famine,  were 
pinched  inwards,  and  her  hands,  which  she  held  clasped 
with  outstretched  arms  before  her,  were  like  the  skinny 
claws  of  some  wild  animal.  As  she  neither  spoke  nor 
stirred,  there  was  no  effort  made  to  remove  her ;  and  there 
she  knelt,  her  eyes,  bloodshot  and  staring,  bent  upon  the 
door  of  the  building.  A  vague  fear  took  possession  of  me. 
Somewhere  I  had  seen  that  face  before.  I  drew  near,  and 
as  a  cold  thrill  ran  through  my  blood,  I  remembered  where. 
She  was  the  wife  of  the  man  by  whose  bedside  I  had  watched 
in  the  mountains.  A  half  dread  of  being  recognized  by  her 
kept  me  back  for  a  moment ;  then  came  the  better  feeling 
that  perhaps  I  might  be  able  to  serve  her,  and  I  walked 
towards  her.  But  though  she  turned  her  eyes  towards  me 
as  I  approached,  her  look  had  no  intelligence  in  it,  and  I 
could  plainly  see  that  reason  had  fled,  and  left  nothing  save 
the  poor  suffering  form  behind  it.  I  endeavored  to  attract 
her  attention,  but  all  in  vain.  At  last  I  tried  by  gentle 
force  to  induce  her  to  leave  the  place ;  but  a  piercing  shriek, 
like  one  whose  tones  had  long  dwelt  in  my  heart,  broke 
from  her,  with  a  look  of  such  unutterable  anguish  that  I 
was  obliged  to  desist  and  leave  her.  The  crowd  made  way 
for  me  as  I  passed  out,  and  I  could  see  in  their  looks  and 
demeanor  the  expression  of  grateful  acknowledgment  for 
even  this  show  of  feeling  on  my  part;  while  some  muttered 
as  1  went  by  a  "  God  reward  ye,"  "  the  Lord  be  good  to  ye," 
as  though  at  that  moment  they  had  nothing  in  their  hearts 
save  thoughts  of  kindness  and  words  of  blessing. 

I  reached  my  room,  and  sat  down  a  sadder,  perhaps  a 
wiser  man ;    and  yet  I  know  not  this.     It  would  need  a 


128  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

clearer  head  than  mine  to  trace  all  the  varying  and  dis. 
cordant  elements  of  character  I  had  witnessed  to  their  true 
source  ;  to  sift  the  evil  from  the  good ;  to  know  what  to 
cherish,  what  to  repress,  whereon  to  build  hope  or  what 
to  fear.  Such  was  this  country  once !  Has  it  changed 
since  ? 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    BAR    DINNER. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  jury  retired,  and  a  little  afterwards 
the  front  drawing-room  of  the  Head  Inn  was  becoming 
every  moment  more  crowded,  as  the  door  opened  to  admit 
the  several  members  of  the  bar,  invited  to  partake  of  Mrs. 
Rooney's  hospitalities.  Mrs.  Rooney's,  I  say ;  for  the  eti- 
quette of  the  circuit  forbidding  the  attorney  to  entertain 
the  dignitaries  of  the  craft,  Paul  was  only  present  at  his 
own  table  on  sufferance,  and  sought  out  the  least  obtrusive 
place  he  could  find  among  the  juniors  and  side-dishes. 

No  one  who  could  have  seen  the  gay,  laughing,  merry 
mob  of  shrewd,  cunning-looking  men  that  chatted  away 
there  would  have  imagined  them  a  few  moments  previously 
engaged  in  a  question  where  the  lives  of  four  of  their 
fellow-men  hung  in  the  balance,  and  where  at  the  very  mo- 
ment the  deliberation  was  continuing  that  should,  perhaps, 
sentence  them  to  death  upon  the  scaffold. 

The  instincts  of  a  profession  are  narrow  and  humiliating 
things  to  witness.  The  surgeon  who  sees  but  in  the  suffer- 
ing agony  of  his  patient  the  occasional  displacement  of  cer- 
tain anatomical  details  is  little  better  than  a  savage  ;  the 
lawyer  who  watches  the  passions  of  hope  and  fear,  distrust, 
dread,  and  suspicion,  only  to  take  advantage  of  them  in  his 
case,  is  far  worse  than  a  savage.  I  confess,  on  looking  at 
these  men,  I  could  never  divest  myself  of  the  impression 
that  the  hired  and  paid-for  passion  of  the  advocate,  the 
subtlety  that  is  engaged  special,  the  wit  that  is  briefed,  the 
impetuous  rush  of  indignant  eloquence  that  is  bottled  up 
from  town  to  town  in  circuit,  and  like  soda-water  grows 
weaker  at  every  corking,  make  but  a  poor  ensemble  of  quali- 

VOL.  II.  —  9 


130  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

ties  for  the  class  who,  par  excellence,  stand  at  the  head  of 
professional  life. 

One  there  was,  indeed,  whose  haggard  eye  and  blanched 
cheek  showed  no  semblance  of  forgetting  the  scene  in 
which  so  lately  he  had  been  an  actor.  This  was  the  lawyer 
who  had  defended  the  prisoners.  He  sat  in  a  window,  rest- 
ing his  head  upon  his  hand,  —  fatigue,  exhaustion,  but 
more  than  all,  intense  feeling,  portrayed  in  every  lineament 
of  his  pale  face. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  gay,  jovial-looking  attorney-general,  slap- 
ping him  familiarly  on  the  shoulder,  —  "  ah,  my  dear 
fellow;  not  tired,  I  hope.  The  court  was  tremendously 
hot ;  but  come,  rally  a  bit :  we  shall  want  you.  Bennet  and 
O'Grady  have  disappointed  us,  it  seems ;  but  you  are  a 
host  in  yourself." 

"  Maybe  so,"  replied  the  other,  faintly,  and  scarce  lifting 
his  eyes  ;  "  but  you  can't  depend  on  my  elevation." 

The  ease  and  readiness  of  the  reply,  as  well  as  the  tones 
of  the  voice,  struck  me ;  and  I  perceived  that  it  was  no 
other  than  the  prior  of  the  Monks  of  the  Screw  who  had 
spoken.  Mrs.  Rooney  made  her  appearance  at  the  moment, 
and  my  attention  was  soon  taken  away  by  the  announce- 
ment of  dinner. 

One  of  the  judges  arrived  in  time  to  offer  his  arm,  and  I 
could  not  help  feeling  amused  at  the  mock-solemnity  of  the 
procession,  as  we  moved  along.  The  judge,  I  may  observe, 
was  a  young  man,  lately  promoted,  and  one  whose  bright 
eye  and  bold,  dashing  expression  bore  many  more  traces  of 
the  outer  bar  than  it  smacked  of  the  dull  gravity  of  the 
bench.  He  took  the  end  of  the  table  beside  Mrs.  Paul,  and 
the  others  soon  seated  themselves  promiscuously  along  the 
table. 

There  is  a  species  of  gladiatorial  exhibition  in  lawyers' 
society  which  is  certainly  very  amusing.  No  one  speaks 
without  the  foreknowledge  that  he  is  to  be  caught  up, 
punned  up,  or  ridiculed,  as  the  case  may  be.  The  whole 
conversation  is  therefore  a  hail-storm  of  short  stories, 
quips,  and  retorts,  intermingled  with  details  of  successful 


THE   BAR   DINNER.  131 

bar-stratagems,  and  practical  jokes  played  off  upon  juries. 
With  less  restraint  than  at  a  military  mess,  there  is  a  strong 
professional  feeling  of  deference  for  the  seniors,  and  much 
more  tact  and  knowledge  of  the  world  to  unite  them. 
While  thus  the  whole  conversation  ran  on  topics  of  the  cir- 
cuit, I  was  amazed  at  Mrs.  Rooney's  perfect  intimacy  with 
all  the  niceties  of  a  law  joke,  or  the  fun  of  a  nisi  prizes 
story.  She  knew  the  chief  peculiarities  of  the  several  per- 
sons alluded  to,  and  laughed  loud  and  long  at  the  good 
things  she  listened  to.  The  judge  alone,  above  all  others, 
had  the  lady's  ear.  His  bold  but  handsome  features,  his 
rich  commanding  voice  (nothing  the  worse  that  it  was 
mellowed  by  a  little  brogue),  his  graceful  action  and  manly 
presence,  stamped  him  as  one  well  suited  to  be  successful 
wherever  good  looks,  ready  tact,  and  consummate  conversa- 
tional powers  have  a  field  for  their  display.  His  stories 
were  few,  but  always  pertinent  and  well  told;  and  fre- 
quently the  last  joke  at  the  table  was  capped  by  him,  when 
no  one  else  could  have  ventured  to  try  it,  while  the  rich 
roll  of  his  laugh  was  a  guarantee  for  mirth  that  never 
failed. 

It  was  just  when  my  attention  was  drawn  off  by  Mrs. 
Rooney  to  some  circumstance  of  our  former  intimacy,  that 
a  hearty  burst  of  laughing  from  the  end  of  the  table  told 
that  something  unusually  absurd  was  being  related. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  a  shrewd-looking,  thin  old  fellow  in 
spectacles,  "we  capitulated,  on  condition  of  leaving  the 
garrison  with  all  the  honors  of  war ;  and,  faith,  the  sheriff 
was  only  too  glad  to  comply." 

"  Bob  Mahon  is  certainly  a  bold  fellow,  and  never  hard 
pushed,  whatever  you  may  do  with  him." 

"  Bob  Mahon !  "  said  I :  "  what  of  him  ?  " 

"  Keatley  has  just  been  telling  how  he  held  out  the  jail 
of  Ennis  for  four  weeks  against  the  sheriff.  The  jailer 
was  an  old  tenant  of  his,  and  readily  came  into  his  plans. 
They  were  victualled  for  a  long  siege,  and  as  the  place  was 
strong  they  had  nothing  to  fear.  When  the  garrison  was 
summoned  to  surrender,  they  put  a  charge  of  No.  4  into  the 


132  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

sub-sheriff,  that  made  hiin  move  to  the  rear;  and  as  the 
prisoners  were  all  coming  from  the  assizes,  they  were 
obliged  to  let  him  have  his  own  terms  if  he  'd  only  consent 
to  come  out.  So  they  gave  him  twelve  hours'  law,  and  a 
clear  run  for  it ;    and  he  's  away." 

This  was  indeed  a  very  quick  realization  of  Father  Tom's 
prediction,  and  I  joined  in  the  mirth  the  story  elicited,  — 
not  the  less  readily  that  I  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
principal  actor  in  it. 

While  the  laughter  still  continued,  the  door  opened,  and 
a  young  barrister  stole  into  the  room  and  whispered  a  few 
words  into  the  ear  of  the  counsel  for  the  prisoners.  He 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  pushed  his  wine-glass  hur- 
riedly before  him. 

"  What,  Collinson  ! "  cried  the  attorney-general,  "  have 
they  agreed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  —  a  verdict  of  guilty." 

"Of  course;  the  evidence  was  too  home  for  a  doubt," 
said  he,  filling  his  glass  from  the  decanter. 

A  sharp  glance  from  the  dark  eye  of  the  opposite  counsel 
was  the  only  reply,  as  he  rose  and  left  the  room. 

"  Our  friend  has  taken  a  more  than  common  interest  in 
this  case,"  was  the  cool  observation  of  the  last  speaker; 
"  but  there  was  no  getting  over  Hanlon's  testimony."  Here 
he  entered  into  some  detail  of  the  trial,  while  the  buzz  and 
confusion  of  voices  became  greater  than  ever.  I  took  this 
opportunity  of  making  my  escape,  and  joined  Mrs.  Eooney, 
who  a  short  time  before  had  retired  to  the  drawing-room. 

Mrs.  Paul  had  contrived,  even  in  the  short  space  since 
her  arrival,  to  have  converted  the  drawing-room  into  a  sem- 
blance of  something  like  an  apartment  in  a  private  house, — 
books,  prints,  and  flowers,  judiciously  disposed,  as  well  as 
an  open  pianoforte,  giving  it  an  air  of  comfort  and  pro- 
priety far  different  from  its  ordinary  seeming.  She  was 
practising  Moore's  newly-published  song  of,  "  Fly  from  this 
world,  dear  Bessy,  with  me,"  as  I  entered. 

" Pray,  continue,  my  dear  Mrs.  Rooney,"  said  I :  "I  will 
take  it  as  the  greatest  possible  favor —  " 


THE  BAR  DINNER.  133 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Paul,  throwing  up  her  eyes  in  the  most 
languishing  ecstasy,  — "  ah,  you  have  soul,  I  know  you 
have ! " 

Protesting  that  I  had  strong  reasons  to  believe  so,  I 
renewed  my  entreaty. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  musing,  and  in  a  Siddons  tone  of 
soliloquy,  "yes,  the  poet  is  right, — 

'  Music  hath  charms  to  smooth  the  savage  beast.' 

But  I  really  can't  sing  the  melodies,  —  they  are  too  much 
for  me.  The  allusion  to  former  times,  when  King  O'Toole 
and  the  rest  of  the  royal  family —  Ah,  you  are  aware,  I 
believe,  that  family  reasons  —  " 

Here  she  pressed  her  embroidered  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes  with  one  hand,  while  she  pressed  mine  convulsively 
with  the  other. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  I,  hurriedly,  while  a  strong  temptation 
to  laugh  outright  seized  me;  "I  have  heard  that  your 
descent  —  " 

"Yes,  my  dear ;  if  it  was  n't  for  the  Danes,  and  the  cruel 
battle  of  the  Boyne,  there  's  no  saying  where  I  might  not 
be  seated  now." 

She  leaned  on  the  piano  as  she  spoke,  and  seemed  over- 
powered with  sorrow.  At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and 
the  judge  made  his  appearance. 

"  A  thousand  pardons  for  the  indiscretion,"  said  he,  step- 
ping back  as  he  saw  me  sitting  with  the  lady's  hand  in 
mine.  I  sprang  up,  confused  and  ashamed,  and  rushing 
past  him  hurried  downstairs. 

I  knew  how  soon  my  adventure,  for  such  it  would  grow 
into,  would  be  the  standing  jest  of  the  bar  mess ;  and  not 
feeling  disposed  to  be  present  at  their  mirth,  I  ordered  a 
chaise,  and  before  half  an  hour  elapsed  was  on  my  road  to 
Dublin. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE    RETURN. 


We  never  experience  to  the  full  how  far  sorrow  has 
made  its  inroad  upon  us  until  we  come  back,  after  absence, 
to  the  places  where  we  have  once  been  happy,  and  find 
them  lone  and  tenantless.  While  we  recognize  each  old 
familiar  object,  we  see  no  longer  those  who  gave  them  all 
their  value  in  our  eyes  ;  every  inanimate  thing  about  speaks 
to  our  senses,  but  where  are  they  who  were  wont  to  speak 
to  our  hearts  ?  The  solitary  chamber  is  then,  indeed,  but 
the  body  of  all  our  pleasure,  from  which  the  soul  has  de- 
parted forever. 

These  feelings  were  mine  as  I  paced  the  old  well-worn 
stairs,  and  entered  my  quarters  in  the  Castle.  No  more  I 
heard  the  merry  laugh  of  my  friend  0' Grady,  nor  his  quick 
step  upon  the  stair.  The  life,  the  stir,  the  bustle  of  the 
place  itself  seemed  to  have  all  fled  ;  the  court  echoed  only 
to  the  measured  tread  of  the  grenadier,  who  marched  back- 
wards and  forwards  beside  the  flag-staff  in  the  centre  of  the 
open  space.  No  cavalcade  of  joyous  riders,  no  prancing 
horses  led  about  by  grooms,  no  showy  and  splendid  equi- 
pages ;  all  was  still,  sad,  and  neglected-looking.  The  dust 
whirled  about  in  circling  eddies,  as  the  cold  wind  of  an 
autumnal  day  moaned  through  the  arched  passages  and 
gloomy  corridors  of  the  old  building.  A  care-worn  offi- 
cial, or  some  slatternly  inferior  of  the  household,  would 
perhaps  pass  from  time  to  time ;  but  except  such  as  these, 
nothing  stirred.  The  closed  shutters  and  drawn-down  blinds 
showed  that  the  viceroy  was  absent,  and  I  found  myself  the 
only  occupant  of  the  building. 

It  requires  the  critical  eye  of  the  observant  resident  of 
great  cities  to  mark  the  changes  which  season  and  fashion 


THE   RETURN.  135 

effect  in  their  appearance.  To  one  unaccustomed  to  their 
phases  it  seems  strange  to  hear,  "  How  empty  the  town  is ! 
how  very  few  people  are  in  London  !  "  —  while  the  heavy 
tide  of  population  pours  incessantly  around  him,  and  his 
ear  is  deafened  with  the  ceaseless  roll  of  equipage.  But  in 
such  a  city  as  Dublin  the  alteration  is  manifest  to  the  least 
remarking.  But  little  frequented  by  the  country  gentry, 
and  never  except  for  the  few  months  when  the  court  is 
there ;  still  less  visited  by  foreigners ;  deserted  by  the  pro- 
fessional classes,  at  least  such  of  them  as  are  independent 
enough  to  absent  themselves,  —  the  streets  are  actually 
empty.  The  occupations  of  trade,  the  bustle  of  commerce, 
that  through  every  season  continue  their  onward  course  in 
the  great  trading-cities  such  as  Liverpool,  Hamburg,  Frank- 
fort, and  Bourdeaux,  scarce  exist  here  ;  and  save  that  the 
tattered  garments  of  mendicancy,  and  the  craving  cries  of 
hunger  are  ever  before  you,  you  might  fall  into  a  drowsy 
reverie  as  you  walked,  and  dream  yourself  in  Palmyra. 

I  had  strolled  about  for  above  an  hour,  in  the  moody 
frame  of  mind  my  own  reflections  and  the  surrounding  ob- 
jects were  well  calculated  to  suggest,  when,  meeting  by 
accident  a  subaltern  with  whom  I  was  slightly  acquainted, 
I  heard  that  the  court  had  that  morning  left  the  Lodge  in 
the  park  for  Kilkenny,  where  the  theatricals  of  that  pleas- 
ant city  were  going  forward, — a  few  members  of  the 
household  alone  remaining,  who  were  to  follow  in  a  day 
or  two. 

For  some  days  previous  I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to 
remain  in  Ireland.  Every  tie  that  bound  me  to  the  coun- 
try was  broken.  I  had  no  heart  to  set  about  forming  new 
friendships  while  the  wounds  of  former  ones  were  still 
fresh  and  bleeding ;  and  I  longed  for  change  of  scene  and 
active  occupation,  that  I  might  have  no  time  to  reflect  or 
look  back. 

Resolving  to  tender  my  resignation  on  the  duke's  staff 
without  any  further  loss  of  time,  I  set  out  at  once  for  the 
park.  I  arrived  there  in  the  very  nick  of  time  ;  the  car- 
riages were  at  the  entrance,  waiting  for  the  private  secre- 


136  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

tary  of  his  Grace  and  two  of  the  aides-de-camp,  who  were 
eating  a  hurried  luncheon  before  starting.  One  of  the  aides- 
de-camp  I  knew  but  slightly,  the  other  was  a  perfect  stran- 
ger to  me ;  but  the  secretary,  Horton,  was  an  intimate 
acquaintance.  He  jumped  up  from  his  chair  as  my  name 
was  announced,  and  a  deep  blush  covered  his  face  as  he 
advanced  to  meet  me  :  — 

"  My  dear  Hinton,  how  unfortunate  !  Why  were  n't  you 
here  yesterday  ?     It 's  too  late  now." 

"  Too  late  for  what  ?     I  don't  comprehend  you." 

"  Why,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  drawing  his  arm  within 
mine,  and  leading  me  towards  a  window,  as  he  dropped  his 
voice  to  a  whisper,  "  I  believe  you  heard  from  me  that  his 
Grace  was  provoked  at  your  continued  absence,  and  ex« 
pected  at  least  that  you  would  have  written  to  ask  an 
extension  of  your  leave.  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  it 
6eemed  to  me  that  the  duchess  came  back  from  England 
with  some  crotchet  in  her  head,  about  something  she  heard 
in  London.     In  any  case,  they  ordered  me  to  write." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  I,  impatiently ;  "  I  guess  it  all.  I  have 
got  my  dismissal.     Is  n't  that  the  whole  of  it  ?  " 

He  nodded  twice,  without  speaking. 

"It  only  anticipates  my  own  wishes,"  said  I,  coolly,  "as 
this  note  may  satisfy  you."  I  placed  the  letter  I  had  writ- 
ten for  the  purpose  of  my  resignation  in  his  hand,  and  con- 
tinued :  "  I  am  quite  convinced  in  my  own  mind  that  his 
Grace,  whose  kindness  towards  me  has  never  varied,  would 
never  have  dreamed  of  this  step  on  such  slight  grounds  as 
my  absence.  Xo,  no ;  the  thing  lies  deeper.  At  any  other 
time  I  should  certainly  have  wished  to  trace  this  matter  to 
its  source  ;  now,  however,  chiming  as  it  does  with  my  own 
plans,  and  caring  little  how  fortune  intends  to  treat  me,  I  '11 
submit  in  silence." 

"  And  take  no  notice  of  the  affair  further  ?  " 

"  Such  is  my  determination,"  said  I,  resolutely. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Horton,  "  I  may  tell  you  that  some 
story  of  a  lady  had  reached  the  duchess,  when  in  London.  — 
some  girl  that  it  was  reported  you  endeavored  to  seduce, 


THE   RETURN.  137 

and  had  actually  followed  for  that  purpose  to  the  west  of 
Ireland.  There,  there  !  don't  take  the  matter  up  that  way, 
for  Heaven's  sake  !  My  dear  fellow,  hear  me  out ! "  But 
I  could  hear  no  more ;  the  rushing  blood  that  crowded  on 
my  brain  stunned  and  stupefied  me,  and  it  took  several 
minutes  before  I  became  sufficiently  collected  to  ask  him 
to  go  on. 

"  I  heard  the  thing  so  confusedly,"  said  he,  "  that  I  can- 
not attempt  anything  like  connection  in  relating  it.  But 
the  story  goes  that  your  duel  in  Loughrea  did  not  origi- 
nate about  the  steeple-chase  at  all,  but  in  a  quarrel  about 
this  girl,  with  her  brother  or  her  cousin,  who,  having  dis- 
covered your  intentions  regarding  her,  you  wished  to  get 
rid  of,  as  a  preliminary.  No  one  but  a  fool  could  credit 
such  a  thing." 

"None  but  such  could  have  invented  it,"  said  I,  as  my 
thoughts  at  once  recurred  to  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere. 

"  The  duke,  however,  spoke  to  General  Hinton  —  " 

"  To  my  father !     And  how  did  he  —  " 

"  Oh,  behaved  as  only  he  could  have  done :  '  Stop,  my 
lord ! '  said  he ;  '  I  '11  spare  you  any  further  relation  of  this 
matter.  If  it  be  true,  my  son  is  unworthy  of  remaining  on 
your  staff.  If  it  be  false,  I  '11  not  permit  him  to  hold  an 
appointment  where  his  reputation  has  been  assailed  with- 
out affording  him  an  opportunity  of  defence.'  High  words 
ensued,  and  the  end  was  that  if  you  appeared  before  to-day, 
you  were  to  hear  the  charge  and  have  an  opportunity  for 
reply.  If  not,  your  dismissal  was  to  be  made  out,  and 
another  appointed  in  your  place.  Now  that  I  have  told 
you  what  I  feel  the  indiscretion  of  my  ever  having  spoken 
of,  promise  me,  my  dear  Hinton,  that  you  will  take  no 
step  in  the  matter.  The  intrigue  is  altogether  beneath 
you,  and  your  character  demands  no  defence  on  your 
part." 

"  I  almost  suspect  I  know  the  party,"  said  I,  gloomily. 

"No,  no;  I'm  certain  you  can't.  It  is  some  woman's 
story ;  some  piece  of  tea-table  gossip,  depend  on  it,  —  in 
any  case,   quite  unworthy  of  caring  about." 


138  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"At  all  events,  I  am  too  indifferent  at  this  moment 
to  feel  otherwise  about  anything,"  said  I.  "So,  good-by, 
Horton;  my  regards  to  all  our  fellows;  good-by!" 

"  Good-by,  my  boy,"  said  he,  warmly  shaking  my  hand. 
"But,  stop  a  moment,  I  have  got  some  letters  for  you;  they 
arrived  only  a  few  days  since." 

He  took  a  packet  from  a  drawer  as  he  spoke,  and  once 
more  bidding  him  adieu,  I  set  out  on  my  return  to  the 
Castle. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FAREWELL   TO    IRELAND. 

My  first  care  on  reaching  my  quarters  was  to  make 
preparations  for  my  departure  by  the  packet  of  the  same 
evening;  my  next  was  to  sit  down  and  read  over  my 
letters.  As  I  turned  them  over,  I  remarked  that  there 
were  none  from  my  father  or  Lady  Charlotte ;  there  was, 
however,  one  in  Julia's  hand,  and  also  a  note  from  O'Grady. 
The  others  were  the  mere  commonplace  correspondence  of 
every-day  acquaintances,  which  I  merely  threw  my  eyes 
carelessly  over  ere  I  consigned  them  to  the  fire.  My  fair 
cousin's  possessed  —  I  cannot  explain  why  —  a  most  unusual 
degree  of  interest  for  me ;  and  throwing  myself  back  in  my 
chair,  I  gave  myself  up  to  its  perusal. 

The  epistle  opened  by  a  half-satirical  account  of  the 
London  season  then  nearly  drawing  to  its  close,  in  which 
various  characters  and  incidents  I  have  not  placed  before 
my  readers,  but  all  well  known  to  me,  were  touched  with 
that  quiet,  subdued  raillery  she  excelled  in.  The  flirta- 
tions, the  jiltings,  the  matches  that  were  on  or  off,  the 
rumored  duels,  debts,  and  difficulties  of  every  one  we  were 
acquainted  with,  were  told  with  a  most  amusing  smart- 
ness, —  all  showing,  young  as  she  was,  how  thoroughly 
the  wear-and-tear  of  fashionable  life  had  invested  her  with 
the  intricate  knowledge  of  character,  and  the  perfect  ac- 
quaintance with  all  the  intrigues  and  by-play  of  the  world. 
"  How  unlike  Louisa  Bellew ! "  said  I,  as  I  laid  down  the 
letter  after  reading  a  description  of  a  manoeuvring  mamma 
and  obedient  daughter  to  secure  the  prize  of  the  season, 
with  a  peerage  and  some  twenty  thousand  pounds  per 
annum.  '  It  was  true  they  were  the  vices  and  the  follies 


140  JACK    IIINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

of  the  age  which  she  ridiculed ;  but  why  should  she  have 
ever  known  them?  Ought  she  to  have  been  conversant 
with  such  a  state  of  society  as  would  expose  them  ?  Were 
it  not  better,  like  Louisa  Bellew,  to  have  passed  her  days 
amid  the  simple,  unexciting  scenes  of  secluded  life,  than  to 
have  purchased  all  the  brilliancy  of  her  wit  and  the  dazzle 
of  her  genius  at  the  price  of  true  womanly  delicacy  and 
refinement?  While  I  asked  and  answered  myself  these 
questions  to  the  satisfaction  of  my  own  heart,  I  could  not 
dismiss  the  thought,  that,  amid  such  scenes  as  London 
presented,  with  such  associates  as  fashion  necessitated,  the 
unprotected  simplicity  of  Miss  Bellew's  character  would 
expose  her  to  much  both  of  raillery  and  coldness ;  and  I 
felt  that  she  would  be  nearly  as  misplaced  among  the 
proud  daughters  of  haughty  England  as  my  fair  cousin 
in  the  unfashionable  freedom  of  Dublin  life. 

I  confess,  as  I  read  on,  that  old  associations  came  crowd- 
ing upon  me.  The  sparkling  brilliancy  of  Julia's  style  re- 
minded me  of  the  charms  of  her  conversational  powers, 
aided  by  all  the  loveliness  of  her  beauty,  and  all  that  witch- 
ery which  your  true  belle  of  fashion  knows  how,  so  success- 
fully, to  spread  around  her;  and  it  was  with  a  flush  of 
burning  shame  on  my  cheek  I  acknowledged  to  myself 
how  much  her  letter  interested  me.  As  I  continued,  I 
saw  O'Grady's  name,  and  to  my  astonishment  found  the 
following :  — 

"  Lady  Charlotte  came  back  from  the  duke's  ball  greatly  pleased 
with  a  certain  major  of  dragoons,  who,  among  his  other  excellent 
qualities,  turns  out  to  be  a  friend  of  yours.  This  estimable  person, 
whose  name  is  O'Grady,  has  done  much  to  dissipate  her  Ladyship's 
prejudices  regarding  Irishmen,  —  the  repose  of  his  manner,  and  the 
quiet,  unassuming,  well-bred  tone  of  his  address  being  all  so  opposed 
to  her  preconceived  notions  of  his  countrymen.  He  dines  here  twice 
or  thrice  a  week,  and  as  he  is  to  sail  soon,  may  happily  preserve  the 
bloom  of  his  reputation  to  the  last.  My  estimate  of  him  is  somewhat 
different.  I  think  him  a  bold  effrontee  kind  of  person,  esteeming 
himself  very  highly,  and  thinking  little  of  other  people.  He  has, 
however,  a  delightful  old  thing,  his  servant  Corny,  whom  I  am  never 
tired  of,  and  shall  really  miss  much  when  he  leaves  us. 


FAREWELL  TO   IRELAND.  141 

"  Now  as  to  yourself,  dear  cousin,  what  mean  all  the  secret  hints  and 
sly  looks  and  doubtful  speeches  about  you  here  1  The  mysteries  of 
Udolpho  are  plain  reading  compared  to  your  doings.  Her  Ladyship 
never  speaks  of  you  but  as  '  that  poor  boy,'  accompanying  the  epithet 
with  the  sigh  with  which  one  speaks  of  a  shipwreck.  Sir  George  calls 
you  John,  which  shows  he  is  not  quite  satisfied  about  you  ;  and,  in 
tact,  I  begin  to  suspect  you  must  have  become  a  United  Irishman, 
with  '  a  lady  in  the  case.'  Yet  even  this  would  scarcely  demand  one 
half  the  reserve  and  caution  with  which  you  are  mentioned.  Am  I 
indiscreet  in  saying  that  I  don't  think  De  Vere  likes  you  ?  The 
major,  however,  certainly  does  ;  and  his  presence  has  banished  the 
lordling,  for  which,  really,  I  owe  him  gratitude." 

The  letter  concluded  by  saying  that  my  mother  had  de- 
sired her  to  write  in  her  place,  as  she  was  suffering  from 
one  of  her  nervous  headaches,  which  only  permitted  her  to 
go  to  the  exhibition  at  Somerset  House ;  my  father,  too, 
was  at  Woolwich  on  some  military  business,  and  had  no 
time  for  anything  save  to  promise  to  write  soon ;  and  that 
she  herself,  being  disappointed  by  the  milliner  in  a  new 
bonnet,  dedicated  the  morning  to  me,  with  a  most  praise- 
worthy degree  of  self-denial  and  benevolence.  I  read  the 
signature  some  half-dozen  times  over,  and  wondered  what 
meaning  in  her  own  heart  she  ascribed  to  the  words, 
"  Yours,  Julia." 

"  Now  for  O'Grady,"  said  I,  breaking  the  seal  of  the 
major's  envelope. 

My  dear  Jack,  —  I  was  sitting  on  a  hencoop,  now  pondering  on 
my  fortunes,  now  turning  to  con  over  the  only  book  on  board,  —  a 
very  erudite  work  on  naval  tactics,  with  directions  how  "  to  moor  a 
ship  in  the  Downs,"  —  when  a  gun  came  booming  over  the  sea,  and  a 
frigate  with  certain  enigmatical  colors  flying  at  her  main-top  com- 
pelled the  old  troop-ship  we  were  in  to  back  her  top-sails  and  lie  to. 
(We  were  then  steering  straight  for  Madeira,  in  latitude ,  longi- 
tude the  same  ;  our  intention  being,  with  the  aid  of  Providence,  to 
reach  Quebec  at  some  remote  period  of  the  summer,  to  join  our  ser- 
vice companies  in  Canada.)  Having  obeyed  the  orders  of  H.  M.  S. 
"  Blast "  to  wait  until  she  overtook  us,  —  a  measure  that  nearly  cost  us 
two  of  our  masts  and  the  cook's  galley,  we  not  being  accustomed  to 
stand  still,  it  seemed,  —  a  boat  came  alongside  with  the  smallest  bit 


142  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

of  a  midshipman  I  ever  looked  at  sitting  in  the  stern  sheets,  with 
orders  for  us  to  face  about,  left  shoulder  forward,  and  march  back  to 
England,  where,  having  taken  in  the.  second  battalion  of  the  Twenty- 
eighth,  we  were  to  start  for  Lisbon. 

I  need  not  tell  you  what  pleasure  the  announcement  afforded  us, 
delighted  as  we  were  to  exchange  tomahawks  and  bowie-knives  for 
civilized  warfare,  even  against  more  formidable  foes.  Behold  us 
then  in  full  sail  back  to  old  England,  which  we  reached  within  a 
fortnight,  —  only  to  touch,  however,  for  the  Twenty-eighth  were  most 
impatiently  expecting  us;  and  having  dedicated  three  days  to  tak- 
ing in  water  and  additional  stores,  and  once  more  going  through  the 
horrible  scene  of  leave-taking  between  soldiers  and  their  wives,  we 
sailed  again.  I  have  little  inclination  to  give  you  the  detail,  which 
newspapers  would  beat  me  hollow  in,  of  our  march,  or  where  we  first 
came  up  with  the  French.  A  smart  affair  took  place  at  daybreak,  in 
which  your  humble  servant,  to  use  the  appropriate  phrase,  "  distin- 
guished "  himself,  —  egad  !  I  had  almost  said  extinguished ;  for  I  was 
shot  through  the  side,  losing  part  of  that  conjugal  portion  of  the 
human  anatomy  called  a  rib,  and  sustaining  several  other  minor 
damages,  that  made  me  appear  to  the  regimental  doctor  a  very  unser- 
viceable craft  for  his  Majesty's  service.  The  result  was,  I  was  sent 
back  with  that  plaister  for  a  man's  vanity,  though  not  for  his  wounds, 
a  despatch-letter  to  the  Horse  Guards,  and  an  official  account  of  the 
action.  As  nothing  has  occurred  since  in  the  Peninsula  to  eclipse 
my  performance,  I  continue  to  star  it  here  with  immense  success,  and 
am  quite  convinced  that  with  a  little  more  loss  I  might  have  made  an 
excellent  match  out  of  the  affair. 

Now  to  the  pleasant  part  of  my  epistle.  Your  father  found  me 
out  a  few  evenings  since  at  an  evening  party  at  the  Duke  of  York's, 
and  presented  me  to  your  lady-mother,  who  was  most  gracious  in  her 
reception  of  me  ',  an  invitation  to  dinner  the  next  day  followed,  and 
since,  I  have  spent  almost  every  day  at  your  house.  Your  father,  my 
dear  Jack,  is  a  glorious  fellow,  a  soldier  in  every  great  feature  of  the 
character  ;  you  never  can  have  a  finer  object  of  your  imitation,  and 
your  best  friend  cannot  wish  you  to  be  more  than  his  equal.  Lady 
Charlotte  is  the  most  fascinating  person  I  ever  met  ;  her  abilities  are 
first-rate,  and  her  powers  of  pleasing  exceed  all  that  ever  I  fancied 
even  of  London  fashionables.  How  you  could  have  left  such  a  house 
I  can  scarcely  conceive,  knowing  as  I  do  something  of  your  taste  for 
comfort  and  voluptuous  ease.  Besides,  la  cousine,  Lady  Julia  — 
Jack,  Jack,  what  a  close  fellow  you  are !  and  how  very  lovely  she  is ! 
she  certainly  has  not  her  equal  even  here.     I  scarcely  know  her,  for 


FAREWELL  TO   IRELAND.  143 

somehow  she  rather  affects  hauteur  with  my  cloth,  and  rarely  deigns 
any  notice  of  the  red-co.ats  so  plentifully  sprinkled  along  your  father's 
dinner-table.  Her  kindness  to  Corny,  who  has  been  domesticated  at 
your  house  for  the  last  five  weeks,  I  can  never  forget  ;  and  even  he 
can't,  it  would  appear,  conjure  up  any  complaint  against  her.  What 
a  testimony  to  her  goodness! 

This  life,  however,  cannot  last  forever;  and  as  I  have  now  recov- 
ered so  far  as  to  mount  a  horse  once  more,  I  have  applied  for  a  regi- 
mental appointment.  Your  father  most  kindly  interests  himself  for 
me,  and  before  the  week  is  over  I  may  be  gazetted.  That  fellow  Ue 
Vere  was  very  intimate  here  when  I  arrived  ;  since  he  has  seen  me, 
however,  his  visits  have  become  gradually  less  frequent,  and  now 
have  almost  ceased  altogether.  This,  entre  nous,  does  not  seem  to 
have  met  completely  with  Lady  Julia's  approval,  and  I  think  she 
may  have  attributed  to  me  a  circumstance  in  which  certainly  I  was 
not  an  active  cause.  However  happy  I  may  feel  at  being  instrumen- 
tal in  a  breach  of  intimacy  between  her  and  one  so  very  unworthy  of 
her,  even  as  a  common  acquaintance,  1  will  ask  you,  Jack,  when  op- 
portunity offers,  to  put  the  matter  in  its  true  light  ;  for  although  I 
may,  in  all  likelihood,  never  meet  her  again,  I  should  be  sorry  to 
leave  with  her  a  more  unfavorable  impression  of  me  than  I  really 
deserve. 

Here  the  letter  broke  off ;  but  lower  down  on  the  paper 
were  the  following  lines,  written  in  evident  haste,  and  with 
a  different  ink  :  — 

We  sail  to-night.  Oporto  is  our  destination.  Corny  is  to  remain 
behind,  and  I  must  ask  of  you  to  look  to  him  on  his  arrival  in  Dub- 
lin. Lady  Julia  likes  De  Vere,  and  you  know  him  too  well  to  per- 
mit of  such  a  fatal  misfortune.  I  am,  I  find,  meddling  in  what 
really  I  have  no  right  to  touch  upon ;  this  is,  however,  de  vous  a  moi. 
God  bless  you. 

Yours  ever,  Phil  O'Guady. 

"Poor  Phil!"  said  I,  as  I  laid  down  the  letter;  "in  his 
heart  he  believes  himself  disinterested  in  all  this,  but  I  see 
plainly  he  is  in  love  with  her  himself."  Alas !  I  cannot 
conceive  a  heavier  affliction  to  befall  the  man  without  for- 
tune than  to  be  thrown  among  those  whose  prospects  ren- 
der an  alliance  impossible,  and  to  bestow  his  affections  on 
an  object  perfectly  beyond  his  reach  of  attainment.     Many 


144  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

a  proud  heart  has  been  torn  in  the  struggle  between  its 
own  promptings  and  the  dread  of  the  imputation,  which 
the  world  so  hastily  confers,  of  "  fortune-hunting ;  "  many  a 
haughty  spirit  has  cpiailed  beneath  this  fear,  and  stifled  in 
his  bosom  the  thought  that  made  his  life  a  blessed  dream. 
My  poor  friend,  how  little  will  she  that  has  stolen  away 
your  peace  think  of  your  sorrows! 

A  gentle  tap  at  my  door  aroused  me  from  my  musings. 
I  opened  it,  and  saw,  to  my  surprise,  my  old  companion 
Tipperary  Joe.  He  was  covered  with  dust,  heated,  and 
travel-stained,  and  leaned  against  the  door-post  to  rest 
himself. 

"  So,"  cried  he,  when  he  had  recovered  his  breath, 
"  I  'm  in  time  to  see  you  once  more  before  you  go !  I  run 
all  the  way  from  Carlow,  since  twelve  o'clock  last  night." 

"  Come  in,  my  poor  boy,  and  sit  down.  Here 's  a  glass 
of  wine  ;  't  will  refresh  you.  We  '11  get  something  for  you 
to  eat,  presently." 

"No,  I  couldn't  eat  now.  My  throat  is  full,  and  my 
heart  is  up  here.  And  so  you  are  going  away,  —  going  for 
good  and  all,  never  to  come  back  again  ?  " 

"  Who  can  say  so  much  as  that,  Joe  ?  I  should,  at  least, 
be  very  sorry  to  think  so." 

"  And  would  you,  now  ?  And  will  you  really  think  of 
ould  Ireland  when  you  're  away  ?  Hurroo !  by  the  mortial, 
there  's  no  place  like  it  for  fun,  divilment,  and  divarsion. 
But,  musha,  musha !  I  'm  forgettin',  and  it 's  gettin'  dark. 
May  I  go  with  you  to  the  packet  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  my  poor  boy ;  and  I  believe  we  have  not 
many  minutes  to  spare." 

I  despatched  Joe  for  a  car  while  I  threw  a  last  look 
around  my  room.  Sad  things,  these  last  looks,  whether 
bestowed  on  the  living  or  the  dead,  the  life-like  or  the  in- 
animate !  There  is  a  feeling  that  resembles  death  in  the 
last  glance  we  are  ever  to  bestow  on  a  loved  object.  The 
girl  you  have  treasured  in  your  secret  heart,  as  she  passes 
by  on  her  wedding-day,  it  may  be  happy  and  blissful,  lifts 
up  her  laughing  eyes,  the  symbol  of  her  own  light  heart, 


iffy 


UNIVERSITY 

OF 


FAREWELL  TO   IRELAND.  145 

and  leaves  in  that  look  darkness  and  desolation  to  you  for- 
eveT.  The  boy  your  father-spirit  has  clung  to,  like  the 
very  light,  of  your  existence,  waves  his  hand  from  the 
quarter-deck,  as  the  gigantic  ship  bends  over  to  the  breeze ; 
the  wind  is  playing  through  the  locks  your  hand  so  often- 
times has  smoothed ;  the  tears  have  dimmed  his  eyes,  for, 
mark !  he  moves  his  fingers  over  them,  —  and  this  is  a  last 
look.  My  sorrow  had  no  touch  of  these.  My  eye  ranged 
over  the  humble  furniture  of  my  little  chamber,  while  mem- 
ories of  the  past  came  crowding  on  me,  —  hopes  that  I  had 
lived  to  see  blighted,  day-dreams  dissipated,  heartfelt  wishes 
thwarted  and  scattered.  I  stood  thus  for  some  minutes, 
when  Joe  again  joined  me. 

Poor  fellow !  his  wayward  and  capricious  flights,  now 
grave,  now  gay,  were  but  the  mockery  of  that  sympathy  my 
heart  required.  Still  did  he  heal  the  sadness  of  the  mo- 
ment. We  need  the  voice,  the  look,  the  accent  of  affection 
when  we  are  leaving  the  spot  where  we  have  once  been 
happy.  It  will  not  do  to  part  from  the  objects  that  have 
made  our  home,  without  the  connecting  link  of  human 
friendship.  The  hearth,  the  roof-tree,  the  mountain,  and 
the  rivulet  are  not  so  eloquent  as  the  once  syllabled 
"  Good-by,"  come  it  from  ever  so  humble  a  voice. 

The  bustle  and  excitement  of  the  scene  beside  the  packet 
seemed  to  afford  Joe  the  most  lively  gratification ;  and, 
like  the  genius  of  confusion,  he  was  to  be  seen  flitting  from 
place  to  place,  assisting  one,  impeding  another,  while 
snatches  of  his  wild  songs  broke  from  him  every  moment. 
I  had  but  time  to  press  his  hand,  when  he  was  hurried 
ashore  amongst  the  crowd  ;  and  the  instant  after  the  vessel 
sheered  off  from  the  pier,  and  got  under  way.  The  poor 
boy  stood  upon  a  block  of  granite,  waving  his  cap  over  his 
head.  He  tried  a  faint  cheer,  but  it  was  scarcely  audible  ; 
another,  it  too  failed.  He  looked  wildly  around  him  on  the 
strange,  unknown  faces,  as  if  a  scene  of  desolation  had 
fallen  on  him,  burst  into  a  torrent  of  tears,  and  fled  wildly 
from  the  spot.     And  thus  I  took  my  leave  of  Ireland. 

At  this  period  of  my  narrative  I  owe  it  to  my  reader  —  I 

VOL.  II. — 10 


146  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUAEDSMAN. 

owe  it  to  myself  —  to  apologize  for  the  mention  of  inci- 
dents, places,  and  people  that  have  no  other  bearing  on  my 
story  than  in  the  impression  they  made  upon  me  while  yet 
young.  When  I  arrived  in  Ireland  I  knew  scarcely  any- 
thing of  the  world.  My  opportunities  had  shown  me  life 
only  through  the  colored  gloss  of  certain  fashionable  pre- 
judices ;  but  of  the  real  character,  motives,  and  habitual 
modes  of  acting  and  thinking  of  others,  still  more  of  my- 
self, I  was  in  total  ignorance.  The  rapidly  succeeding  inci- 
dents of  Irish  life,  —  their  interest,  variety,  and  novelty,  — 
all  attracted  and  excited  me ;  and  without  ever  stopping  to 

•  reflect  upon  causes,  I  found  myself  becoming  acquainted 
with  facts.  That  the  changeful  pictures  of  existence  so 
profusely  scattered  through  the  land  should  have  made 
their  impression  upon  me  is  natural  enough;  and  because 
I  have  found  it  easier  and  pleasanter  to  tell  my  reader 
the  machinery  of  this  change  in  me  than  to  embody  that 
change  itself,  is  the  reason  why  I  have  presented  before 
him  tableaux  of  life  under  so  many  different  circumstances, 
and  when,  frequently,  they  had  no  direct  relation  to  the 

j  current  of  my  own  fate  and  the  story  of  my  own  fortunes. 
It  is  enough  of  myself  to  say,  that,  though  scarcely  older  in 
time,  I  had  grown  so  in  thought  and  feeling.  If  I  felt,  on 
the  one  hand,  how  little  my  high  connections  and  the  posi- 
tion in  fashionable  life  which  my  family  occupied  availed 
me,  I  learned,  on  the  other,  to  know  that  friends,  and 
stanch  ones,  could  be  made  at  once,  on  the  emergency  of  a 
moment,  without  the  imposing  ceremony  of  introduction 
and  the  diplomatic  interchange  of  visits. 
And  now  to  my  story. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

LONDON. 

It  was  late  when  I  arrived  in  London  and  drove  up  to 
my  father's  house.  The  circumstances  under  which  I  had 
left  Ireland  weighed  more  heavily  on  me  as  I  drew  near 
home,  and  as  I  reflected  over  the  questions  I  should  be 
asked  and  the  explanations  I  should  be  expected  to  afford ; 
and  I  half  dreaded  lest  my  father  should  disapprove  of  my 
conduct  before  I  had  an  opportunity  of  showing  him  how 
little  I  had  been  to  blame  throughout.  The  noise  and  din 
of  the  carriages,  the  oaths  and  exclamations  of  the  coach- 
men, and  the  uproar  of  the  streets  turned  my  attention 
from  these  thoughts,  and  I  asked  what  was  the  meaning  of 
the  crowd. 

"  A  great  ball,  sir,  at  Lady  Charlotte  Hinton's." 

This  was  a  surprise,  and  not  of  the  pleasantest.  I  had 
wished  that  my  first  meeting  with  my  father  at  least 
should  have  been  alone  and  in  quietness,  where  I  could 
fairly  have  told  him  every  important  event  of  my  late  life, 
and  explained  wherefore  I  so  ardently  desired  immediate 
employment  on  active  service  and  a  total  change  in  that 
career  which  weighed  so  heavily  on  my  spirits.  The  car- 
riage drew  up  at  the  instant,  and  I  found  myself  once  more 
at  home. 

What  a  feeling  does  that  simple  word  convey  to  his  ears 
who  knows  the  real  blessing  of  a  home,  —  that  shelter 
from  the  world,  its  jealousies  and  its  envies,  its  turmoils 
and  its  disappointments  ;  where,  like  some  land-locked  bay. 
the  still,  calm  waters  sleep  in  silence,  while  the  storm  and 
hurricane  are  roaring  without;  where  glad  faces  and  bright 
looks  abound ;  where  each  happiness  is  reflected  back  from 


148  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

every  heart  and  ten  times  multiplied,  and  every  sorrow 
comes  softened  by  consolation  and  words  of  comfort! 
And  how  little  like  this  is  the  abode  of  the  great  leader 
of  fashion ;  how  many  of  the  fairest  gifts  of  humanity  are 
turned  back  by  the  glare  of  a  hundred  wax-lights,  and  the 
glitter  of  gilded  lacqueys ;  and  how  few  of  the  charities  of 
life  find  entrance  where  the  splendor  and  luxury  of  volup- 
tuous habits  have  stifled  natural  feeling,  and  made  even 
sympathy  unfashionable ! 

It  was  not  without  difficulty  I  could  persuade  the  ser- 
vants, who  were  all  strangers  to  me,  that  the  travel-stained, 
dusty  individual  before  them  was  the  son  of  the  celebrated 
and  fashionable  Lady  Charlotte  Hinton,  and  at  length  reach 
my  room  to  dress. 

It  was  near  midnight ;  the  rooms  were  filled  as  I  entered 
the  drawing-room.  For  a  few  moments  I  could  not  help 
feeling  strongly  the  full  influence  of  the  splendid  scene  be- 
fore me.  The  undoubted  evidences  of  rank  and  wealth  that 
meet  the  eye  on  every  side  in  London  life  are  very  striking. 
The  splendor  of  the  women's  dress,  their  own  beauty,  a  cer- 
tain air  of  haughty  bearing  peculiarly  English,  a  kind  of 
conscious  superiority  to  the  rest  of  the  world  mark  them  ; 
and  in  their  easy,  unembarrassed,  steady  glance  you  read 
the  proud  spirit  of  Albion's  "haughty  dames."  This  alone 
was  very  different  from  the  laughing  spirit  of  Erin's  daugh- 
ters, their  espiegle  looks  and  smiling  lips.  The  men,  too, 
were  so  dissimilar,  —  their  reserved  and  stately  carriage, 
their  low  voices,  and  deferential  but  composed  manner  con- 
trasting strongly  with  Irish  volubility,  quickness,  and  ges- 
ticulation. I  stood  unnoticed  and  alone  for  some  time, 
quietly  observant  of  the  scene  before  me;  and  as  I  heard 
name  after  name  announced,  many  of  them  the  greatest  and 
the  highest  in  the  land,  there  was  no  semblance  of  excite- 
ment as  they  entered,  no  looks  of  admiring  wonder  as  they 
passed  on  and  mingled  with  the  crowd.  This  showed  me  I 
was  in  a  mighty  city,  where  the  chief  spirits  that  ruled  the 
age  moved  daily  before  the  public  eye ;  and  again  I  thought 
of  Dublin,  where  some  third-rate  notoriety  would  have  been 


LONDON.  149 

hailed  with  almost  acclamation,  and  lionized  to  the  "top  of 
his  bent." 

I  could  remember  but  few  of  those  around,  and  even  they 
had  either  forgotten  me  altogether,  or,  having  no  recollec- 
tion of  my  absence,  saluted  me  with  the  easy  nonchalance 
of  one  who  is  seen  every  evening  of  his  life. 

"  How  are  you,  Hinton  ?  "  said  one,  with  something  more 
of  warmth  than  the  rest.  "  I  have  not  met  you  for  some 
weeks  past." 

"No,"  said  I,  smiling.  "  I  have  been  nearly  a  year  from 
home." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !     In  Spain  ?  " 

"No,  in  Ireland." 

"  In  Ireland  ?     How  odd  !  " 

"  Who  has  been  in  Ireland  ?  "  said  a  low,  plaintive  voice. 
Turning  round  as  she  spoke,  my  lady-mother  stood  before 
me.  "I  should  like  to  hear  something —  But,  dear  me, 
this  must  be  John ! "  and  she  held  out  her  jewelled  hand 
towards  me. 

"  My  dear  mother,  I  am  so  happy  to  see  you  look  so  very 
well  —  " 

"No,  no,  my  dear,"  said  she,  sighing,  "don't  speak  of 
that.  When  did  you  arrive  ?  —  I  beg  your  Royal  High- 
ness's  pardon,  I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  your  protege, 
my  son." 

I  bowed  reverently  as  a  large,  full,  handsome  man,  with 
bald  head  and  a  most  commanding  expression,  drew  him- 
self up  before  me. 

"  No,  Madam,  I  have  not  forgotten  him,  I  assure  you ! " 
was  the  reply,  as  he  returned  my  salute  with  marked  cold- 
ness, and  passed  on. 

Before  Lady  Charlotte  could  express  her  surprise  at  such 
an  unlooked-for  mark  of  displeasure,  my  father,  who  had 
just  heard  of  my  arrival,  came  up. 

"Jack,  my  clear  fellow,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  How  large 
you  have  grown,  boy,  and  how  brown  !  " 

The  warm  welcome  of  his  manly  voice,  the  affectionate 
grasp  of  his  strong  hand,  rallied  me  at  once,  and  I  cared 


150  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

little  for  the  looks  of  king  or  kaiser  at  that  moment.  He 
drew  his  arm  within  mine,  and  led  me  through  the  rooms 
to  a  small  boudoir,  where  a  party  at  cards  were  the  only- 
occupants. 

"  Here  we  shall  be  tolerably  alone  for  a  little  while,  at 
least,"  said  he ;  "  and  now,  my  lad,  tell  me  everything 
about   you." 

In  less  than  half-an-hour  I  ran  over  the  principal  events 
of  my  life  in  Ireland,  omitting  only  those  in  which  Miss 
Bellew  bore  a  part.  On  this  account  my  rupture  with  Lord 
de  Vere  was  only  imperfectly  alluded  to ;  and  I  could 
perceive  that  my  father's  brow  became  contracted,  and 
his  look  assumed  a  severer  expression  at  this  part  of  my 
narrative. 

"  You  have  not  been  very  explicit,  Jack,  about  this  busi- 
ness ;  and  this  it  is  which  I  am  really  uneasy  about.  I  have 
never  known  you  do  a  mean  or  a  shabby  thing ;  I  will  never 
suspect  you  of  one.  So,  now,  let  me  clearly  understand  the 
ground  of  this  quarrel." 

There  was  a  tone  of  command  in  his  voice  as  he  said  this 
which  decided  me  at  once,  and  without  further  hesitation  I 
resolved  on  laying  everything  before  him.  Still,  I  knew 
not  how  to  begin ;  the  mention  of  Louisa's  name  alone  stag- 
gered me,  and  for  a  second  or  two  I  stammered  and  looked 
confused. 

Unlike  his  wonted  manner,  my  father  looked  impatient, 
almost  angry.  At  last,  when  seeing  that  my  agitation  only 
increased  upon  me,  and  that  my  difficulty  grew  each  mo- 
ment greater,  he  looked  me  sternly  in  the  face,  and  with  a 
voice  full  of  meaning,  said,  — 

"  Tell  me  everything!  I  cannot  bear  to  doubt  you.  Was 
this  a  play  transaction  ?  " 

"A  play  transaction!     No,  sir,  nothing  like  it." 

"  Was  there  not  a  bet  —  some  disputed  wager  —  mixed 
up  in  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  was  a  wager,  sir ;  but  —  " 

Before  I  could  conclude,  my  father  pressed  his  hand 
against  his  eyes,  and  a  faint  sigh  broke  from  him. 


LONDON.  151 

"  But  hear  me  out,  sir.     The  wager  was  none  of  mine." 

In  a  few  moments  I  ran  over  the  whole  circumstances  of 
De  Vere's  bet,  his  conduct  to  Miss  Bellew,  and  my  own 
subsequent  proceedings ;  but  when  I  came  to  the  mention 
of  O'Grady's  name,  he  stopped  me  suddenly,  and  said, — 

"Major  O'Grady,  however,  did  not  approve  of  your  con- 
duct in  the  affair." 

"  O'Grady  !     He  was  my  friend  all  through  it !  " 

My  father  remained  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  in 
a  low  voice  added,  — 

"  There  has  been  misrepresentation  here." 

The  words  were  not  well  spoken  when  Lord  Dudley  de 
Vere,  with  my  cousin  Lady  Julia  on  his  arm,  came  up. 
The  easy  nonchalance  of  his  manner,  the  tone  of  quiet  in- 
difference he  assumed,  were  well  known  to  me ;  but  I  was 
in  nowise  prepared  for  the  look  of  insufferable,  patronizing 
impertinence  he  had  now  put  on. 

My  cousin,  more  beautiful  far  than  ever  I  had  seen  her, 
took  off  my  attention  from  him,  however,  and  I  turned  with 
a  feeling  of  half-pride,  half-wonder,  to  pay  my  respects  to 
her.  Dressed  in  the  most  perfect  taste  of  the  fashion,  her 
handsome  features  wore  the  assured  and  tranquil  expression 
which  conscious  beauty  gives.  And  here  let  no  inexperi- 
enced observer  rashly  condemn  the  placid  loveliness  of  the 
queen  of  beauty,  the  sanctioned  belle  of  fashionable  life. 
It  is,  indeed,  very  different  from  the  artless  loveliness  of 
innocent  girlhood ;  but  its  claim  is  not  less  incontestible. 
The  features,  like  the  faculties,  can  be  cultivated ;  and  when 
no  unnatural  effort  suggests  the  expression,  who  shall  say 
that  the  mind  habitually  exercised  in  society  of  the  highest 
and  most  gifted  circle  will  not  impart  a  more  elevated  char- 
acter to  the  look  than  when  the  unobtrusive  career  of  every- 
day life  flows  on  calm  and  unruffled,  steeping  the  soul  in  a 
dreary  monotony,  and  calling  for  no  effort  save  of  the  com- 
monest kind. 

Julia's  was  indeed  splendid  beauty.  The  lustrous  bril- 
liancy of  her  dark  blue  eyes  were  shaded  by  long,  black 
lashes  ;    the  contour  of  her  cheeks  was  perfect ;    her  full 


152  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

short  lips  were  slightly,  so  slightly,  curled  you  knew  not  if 
it  were  no  more  smile  than  sarcasm ;  the  low  tones  of  her 
voice  were  rich  and  musical,  and  her  carriage  and  demeanor 
possessed  all  the  graceful  elegance  which  is  only  met  with 
in  the  society  of  great  cities.  Her  manner  was  most  frank 
and  cordial ;  she  held  out  her  hand  to  me  at  once,  and 
looked  really  glad  to  see  me.  After  a  few  brief  words  of 
recognition,  she  turned  towards  De  Vere,  — 

"  I  shall  ask  you  to  excuse  me,  my  lord,  this  set.  It  is 
so  long  since  I  have  seen  my  cousin." 

He  bowed  negligently,  muttered  something  carelessly 
about  the  next  waltz,  and  with  a  familiar  nod  to  me 
lounged  away.  O'Grady's  caution  about  this  man's  atten- 
tions to  Julia  at  once  came  to  my  mind,  and  the  easy  tone 
of  his  manner  towards  her  alarmed  me ;  but  I  had  no  time 
for  reflection,  as  she  took  my  arm  and  sauntered  down  the 
room. 

"  And  so,  mon  cher  cousin,  you  have  been  leading  a  very 
wild  life  of  it,  —  fighting  duels,  riding  steeple-chases,  break- 
ing your  own  bones  and  ladies'  hearts,  in  a  manner  exceed- 
ingly Irish  ?  "  said  Julia  with  a  smile,  into  which  not  a 
particle  of  her  habitual  raillery  entered. 

"From  your  letters  I  can  learn,  Julia,  that  a  very  strange 
account  of  my  doings  must  have  reached  my  friends  here. 
Except  from  yourself  I  have  met  with  scarcely  anything 
but  cold  looks  since  my  arrival." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  that ;  people  will  talk,  you  know.  For 
my  part,  Jack,  I  never  will  believe  you  anything  but  what 
I  have  always  known  you.  The  heaviest  charge  I  have 
heard  against  you  is  that  of  trifling  with  a  poor  girl's  affec- 
tions ;  and  as  I  know  that  the  people  who  spread  these 
rumors  generally  don't  know  at  which  side  either  the  trifling 
or  the  affection  resides,  why  I  think  little  about  it." 

"  And  has  this  been  said  of  me  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  it  has,  and  ten  times  as  much.  As  to  your 
gambling  sins,  there  is  no  end  to  their  enormity.  A  certain 
Mr.  Rooney,  1  think  the  name  is,  a  noted  play-man  —  " 

"  How  absurd,  Julia !     Mr.  Rooney  never  played  in  his 


LONDON.  153 

life ;  nor  have  I,  except  in  the  casual  way  every  one  does 
in  a  drawing-room." 

"  N'importe,  —  you  are  a  lady-killer  and  a  gambler.  Now 
as  to  count  number  three,  —  for  being  a  jockey." 

"  My  dear  Julia,  if  you  had  seen  my  steeple-chase  you  'd 
acquit  me  of  that." 

"  Indeed,  I  did  hear,"  said  she,  roguishly,  "  that  you  ac- 
quitted yourself  admirably  ;  but  still  you  won.  And  then 
we  come  to  the  great  offence,  —  your  quarrelsome  habits. 
We  heard,  it  is  true,  that  you  behaved,  as  it  is  called,  very 
honorably,  etc. ;  but  really  duelling  is  so  detestable  —  " 

"Come,  come,  fair  cousin,  let  us  talk  of  something  be- 
sides my  delinquencies.  What  do  you  think  of  my  friend 
O'Grady  ?  " 

I  said  this  suddenly,  by  way  of  reprisal ;  but  to  my  utter 
discomfiture  she  replied  with  perfect  calmness,  — 

"  I  rather  was  amused  with  him  at  first.  He  is  very  odd, 
very  unlike  other  people ;  but  Lady  Charlotte  took  him  up 
so,  and  we  had  so  much  of  him  here,  I  grew  somewhat  tired 
of  him.  He  was,  however,  very  fond  of  you ;  and  you 
know  that  made  up  for  much  with  us  all." 

There  was  a  tone  of  sweetness  and  almost  of  deep  interest 
in  these  last  few  words  that  made  my  heart  thrill,  and  un- 
consciously I  pressed  her  arm  closer  to  my  side,  and  felt 
the  touch  returned.  Just  at  the  instant  my  father  came 
forward  accompanied  by  another,  who  I  soon  perceived  was 
the  royal  duke  that  had  received  me  so  coldly  a  few  min- 
utes before.  His  frank,  manly  face  was  now  all  smiles,  and 
his  bright  eye  glanced  from  my  fair  cousin  to  myself  with 
a  quick,  meaning  expression. 

"Another  time,  General,  will  do  quite  as  well.  I  say, 
Mr.  Hinton,  call  on  me  to-morrow  morning  about  ten,  will 
you  ?     I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

I  bowed  deeply  in  reply,  and  he  passed  on. 

"  And  let  me  see  you  after  breakfast,"  said  Julia,  in  a 
half  whisper,  as  she  turned  towards  De  Vere,  who  now 
came  forward  to  claim  her  for  the  waltz. 

My  father,  too,  mixed  with  the  crowd,  and  I  felt  myself 


154  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

alone  and  a  stranger  in  what  should  have  been  my  home. 
A  kind  of  cold  thrill  came  over  me  as  I  thought  how  unlike 
was  my  welcome  to  what  it  would  have  been  in  Ireland ; 
for  although  I  felt  that  in  my  father's  manner  towards  me 
there  was  no  want  of  affection  or  kindness,  yet  somehow  I 
missed  the  exuberant  warmth  and  ready  cordiality  I  had 
latterly  been  used  to,  and  soon  turned  away,  sad  and  dis- 
appointed, to  seek  my  own  room. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


AN   UNHAPPY    DISCLOSURE. 


"  What  ! "  cried  I,  as  I  awoke  the  next  morning,  and 
looked  with  amazement  at  the  figure  which  waddled  across 
the  room  with  a  boot  in  either  hand,  —  "  what,  not  Corny 
Delany,  surely  ?  " 

"  Ugh,  that  same,"  said  he,  with  a  cranky  croak.  "  I  don't 
wonder  ye  don't  know  me  ;  hardship 's  telling  on  me  every 
day." 

Now  really,  in  vindication  of  my  father's  household,  in 
which  Sir  Corny  had  been  domesticated  for  the  last  two 
months,  I  must  observe  that  the  alteration  in  his  appear- 
ance was  not  exactly  such  as  to  justify  his  remark ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  had  grown  fatter  and  more  ruddy,  and  looked 
in  far  better  case  than  I  had  ever  seen  him.  His  face, 
however,  most  perse veringly  preserved  its  habitual  sour 
and  crabbed  expression,  rather  increased,  than  otherwise, 
by  his  improved  condition. 

"  So,  Corny,  you  are  not  comfortable  here,  I  find  ?  " 

"  Comfortable !  The  ways  of  this  place  would  kill  the 
Danes  !  Nothing  but  ringing  bells  from  morning  till  night ; 
carriages  drivin'  like  wind  up  to  the  door,  and  bang,  bang 
away  at  the  rapper ;  then  more  ringing  to  let  them  out 
again ;  and  bells  for  breakfast  and  for  luncheon  and  the 
hall  dinner ;  and  then  the  sight  of  vi'tals  that 's  wasted, 
—  meat  and  fish  and  fowl  and  vegetables  without  end. 
Ugh,  the  Haythins,  the  Turks  !  eating  and  drinking  as  if 
the  world  was  all  their  own." 

"  Well,  apparently  they  take  good  care  of  you  in  that 
respect." 


156  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Devil  a  bit  of  care ;  here  it 's  every  man  for  himself. 
But  I  '11  give  warning  on  Saturday ;  sorrow  one  o'  me  'ill 
be  kilt  for  the  like  of  them." 

"  You  prefer  Ireland,  then,  Corny  ?  " 
"  Who  said  I  did  ?  "  said  he,  snappishly  ;    "  is  n't  it  as 
bad  there?     Ugh,  ugh,  the  captain  won't  rest  asy  in  his 
grave  after  the  way  he  trated  me,  —  leaving  me  here  alone 
and  dissolate  in  this  place,  amongst  strangers  !  " 

"  Well,  you  must  confess  the  country  is  not  so  bad." 
"  And  why  would  I  confess  it  ?     What 's  in  it  that  I  don't 
mislike  ?     Is  it  the  heap  of  houses  and  the  smoke  and  the 
devil's  noise  that 's  always  going  on  that  I  'd  like  ?     Why 
isn't  it  peaceful  and  quiet  like  Dublin?" 

And  as  I  conversed  further  with  him,  I  found  that  all  his 
dislikes  proceeded  from  the  discrepancy  he  everywhere  dis- 
covered from  what  he  had  been  accustomed  to  in  Ireland, 
and  which,  without  liking,  he  still  preferred  to  our  Saxon 
observances,  —  the  few  things  he  saw  worthy  of  praise  be- 
ing borrowed  or  stolen  from  his  own  side  of  the  Channel. 
And  in  this  his  ingenuity  was  striking,  insomuch  that  the 
very  trees  in  Woburn  Park  owed  their  goodness  to  the 
owner  having  been  once  a  lord-lieutenant  in  Ireland,  where, 
as  Corny  expressed  it,  "devil  thank  him  to  have  fine  trees ! 
hadn't  he  the  pick  of  the  Phaynix?" 

I  knew  that  candor  formed  a  most  prominent  feature 
in  Mister  Delany's  character,  and  consequently  had  little 
difficulty  in  ascertaining  his  opinion  of  every  member  of 
my  family ;  indeed,  to  do  him  justice,  no  one  ever  required 
less  of  what  is  called  pumping.  His  judgment  on  things 
and  people  flowed  from  him  without  effort  or  restraint,  so 
that  ere  half  an  hour  elapsed  he  had  expatiated  on  my 
mother's  pride  and  vanity  ;  apostrophized  my  father's  hasti- 
ness and  determination ;  and  was  quite  prepared  to  enter 
upon  a  critical  examination  of  my  cousin  Julia's  failings, 
concerning  whom,  to  my  astonishment,  he  was  not  half  so 
lenient  as  I  expected. 

"  Arrah,  is  n't  she  like  the  rest  of  them,  coorting  one  day 
with  Captain  Phil,  and  another  with  the  young  lord  there, 


AN  UNHAPPY  DISCLOSURE.  157 

and  then  laughing  at  them  both  with  the  ould  duke  that 
comes  here  to  dinner  !  She  thinks  I  don't  be  minding  her ; 
but  did  n't  I  see  her  taking  myself  off  one  day  on  paper,  — 
making  a  drawing  of  me,  as  if  I  was  a  baste!  Maybe 
there  's  worse  nor  me,"  said  the  little  man,  looking  down 
upon  his  crooked  shins  and  large  knee-joints  with  singular 
complacency;  "and  maybe  she'd  get  one  of  them  yet."  A 
harsh  cackle,  the  substitute  for  a  laugh,  closed  this  speech. 

"Breakfast  on  the  table,  sir,"  said  a  servant,  tapping 
gently  at  the  door. 

"  I  '11  engage  it  is,  and  will  be  till  two  o'clock,  when 
they  '11  be  calling  out  for  luncheon,"  said  Corny,  turning  up 
the  whites  of  his  eyes,  as  though  the  profligate  waste  of 
the  house  was  a  sin  he  wished  to  wash  his  hands  of. 
"  That  was  n't  the  way  at  his  honor  the  Jidge's  ;  he  'd 
never  taste  a  bit  from  morning  till  night ;  and  many  a  man 
he  'd  send  to  his  long  account  in  the  mean  time.  Ugh !  I 
wish  I  was  back  there." 

"I  have  spent  many  happy  days  in  Ireland,  too,"  said  I, 
scarce  following  him  in  more  than  the  general  meaning  of 
his  speech. 

A  fit  of  coughing  from  Corny  interrupted  his  reply,  but 
as  he  left  the  room  I  could  hear  his  muttered  meditations, 
something  in  this  strain :  "  Happy  days,  indeed  !  A  dacent 
life  you  led !  tramping  about  the  country  with  a  fool, 
horse-riding  and  fighting  !     Ugh  !  " 

I  found  my  cousin  in  the  breakfast-room  alone ;  my  fa- 
ther had  already  gone  out;  and  as  Lady  Charlotte  never 
left  her  room  before  three  or  four  o'clock,  I  willingly  took 
the  opportunity  of  our  tete-a-tete  to  inquire  into  the  cause 
of  the  singular  reception  I  had  met  with,  and  to  seek  an 
explanation,  if  so  might  be,  of  the  viceroy's  change  towards 
me  since  his  visit  to  England. 

Julia  entered  frankly  and  freely  into  the  whole  matter, 
with  the  details  of  which,  though  evidently  not  trusting 
me  to  the  full,  she  was  somehow  perfectly  conversant. 

"  My  dear  John,"  said  she,  "  your  whole  conduct  in 
Ireland  has  been  much  mistaken — " 


158  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"Calumniated,  apparently,  were  the  better  word,  Julia," 
said  I,  hastily. 

"  Nay,  hear  me  out.  It  is  so  easy,  when  people  have  no 
peculiar  reasons  to  vindicate  another,  to  misconstrue,  per- 
haps condemn.  It  is  so  much  the  way  of  the  world  to  look 
at  things  in  their  worst  light,  that  I  am  sure  you  will  see 
no  particular  ingenuity  was  required  to  make  your  career 
in  Dublin  appear  a  wild  one,  and  your  life  in  the  country 
still  more  so.  Now  you  are  growing  impatient ;  you  are 
getting  angry;   so  I  shall  stop." 

"  No,  no,  Julia ;  a  thousand  pardons  if  a  passing  shade 
of  indignation  did  show  itself  in  my  face.     Pray,  go  on." 

"Well,  then,  when  a  young  gentleman,  whose  exclusive 
leanings  were  even  a  little  quizzed  here  —  there,  no  im- 
patience !  — condescends  at  one  spring  to  frequent  third- 
rate  people's  houses  ;  falls  in  love  with  a  niece,  or  daughter, 
or  a  something  there ;  plays  high  among  riotous  associ- 
ates ;  makes  rash  wagers ;  and  fights  with  his  friends, 
who  endeavor  to  rescue  him — " 

"  Thank  you,  Julia,  —  a  thousand  thanks,  sweet  cousin  ! 
The  whole  narrative  and  its  author  are  palpably  before  me." 

A  deep  blush  covered  her  cheek  as  I  rose  hastily  from 
my  chair. 

"  John,  dear  John,  sit  down  again,"  said  she,  "  I  have 
only  been  in  jest  all  this  time.  You  surely  do  not  suppose 
me  silly  enough  to  credit  one  word  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  It  must  have  been  told  you,  however,"  said  I,  fixing  my 
eyes  on  her  as  I  spoke. 

The  redness  of  her  cheek  grew  deeper,  and  her  confusion 
increased  to  a  painful  extent,  as,  taking  my  hand  in  hers, 
she  said  in  a  low,  soft  voice,  — 

"  I  have  been  very,  very  foolish  ;  but  you  will  promise 
me  never  to  remember  —  at  least  never  to  act  upon  — 
the—  " 

The  words  became  fainter  and  fainter  as  she  spoke,  and 
at  last  died  away  inaudibly ;  and  suddenly  there  shot  across 
my  mind  the  passage  in  O'Grady's  letter.  The  doubt,  once 
suggested,  gained  strength  at  every  moment :  she  loved  De 


AN  UNHAPPY   DISCLOSURE.  159 

Vere.  I  will  not  attempt  to  convey  the  conflicting  storm 
of  passion  this  thought  stirred  up  within  me.  I  turned 
towards  her.  Her  head  was  thrown  gently  back,  and  her 
deep-blue  lustrous  eyes  were  fixed  on  me  as  if  waiting  my 
reply.  A  tear  rolled  heavily  along  her  cheek :  it  was  the 
first  I  ever  saw  her  shed.  Pressing  her  hand  to  my  lips, 
I  muttered  the  words,  "Trust  me,  Julia,"  and  left  the 
room. 

"  Sir  George  wishes  to  see  you,  sir,  in  his  own  room," 
said  a  servant,  as  I  stood  stunned  and  overcome  by  the 
discovery  I  had  made  of  my  cousin's  affection.  I  had  no 
time  given  me  for  further  reflection  as  I  followed  him  to 
my  father's  room. 

"  Sit  down,  Jack,"  said  my  father,  as  he  turned  the  key 
in  the  door.  "  I  wish  to  talk  with  you  alone,  here.  I  have 
been  with  the  duke  this  morning ;  a  little  explanation  has 
satisfied  him  that  your  conduct  was  perfectly  irreproachable 
in  Ireland.  He  writes  by  this  post  to  the  viceroy  to  make 
the  whole  thing  clear,  and  indeed  he  offered  to  reinstate 
you  at  once,  —  which  I  refused,  however.  Now  to  some- 
thing graver  still,  my  boy,  and  which  I  wish  I  could  spare 
you ;  but  it  cannot  be." 

As  he  spoke  these  words  he  leaned  his  head  in  both 
his  hands,  and  was  silent.  A  confused,  imperfect  sense 
of  some  impending  bad  news  rendered  me  motionless  and 
still,  and  I  waited  without  speaking.  When  my  father 
lifted  up  his  head  his  face  was  pale  and  careworn,  and 
an  expression  such  as  long  illness  leaves  had  usurped  the 
strong  and  manly  character  of  his  countenance. 

"  Come,  my  boy,  I  must  not  keep  you  longer  in  suspense. 
Fortune  has  dealt  hardly  with  me  since  we  parted.  Jack, 
I  am  a  beggar !  " 

A  convulsive  gulp  and  a  rattling  sound  in  the  throat 
followed  the  words,  and  for  a  second  or  two  his  fixed  looks 
and  purple  color  made  me  fear  a  fit  was  approaching.  But 
in  a  few  minutes  he  recovered  his  calmness,  and  proceeded, 
still  with  a  broken  and  tremulous  voice,  to  relate  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  altered  fortune. 


160  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

It  appeared  that  many  British  officers  of  high  rank  had 
involved  themselves  deeply  in  a  loan  to  the  Spanish  gov- 
ernment, under  the  faith  of  speedy  repayment.  The  vary- 
ing chances  of  the  Peninsular  struggle  had  given  this  loan 
all  the  character  of  a  gambling  speculation,  the  skill  in 
which  consisted  in  the  anticipation  of  the  result  of  the 
war  we  were  then  engaged  in.  My  father's  sanguine  hopes 
of  ultimate  success  induced  him  to  enter  deeply  into  the 
speculation,  from  which,  having  once  engaged,  there  was 
no  retreat.  Thousand  after  thousand  followed,  to  secure 
the  sum  already  advanced;  and  at  last,  hard  pressed  by 
the  increasing  demands  for  money,  and  confident  that  the 
first  turn  of  fortune  would  lead  to  repayment,  he  had  made 
use  of  the  greater  part  of  my  cousin  Julia's  fortune,  whose 
guardian  he  was,  and  in  whose  hands  this  trust-money  had 
been  left.  My  cousin  would  come  of  age  in  about  four 
months,  at  which  time  she  would  be  eighteen;  and  then, 
if  the  money  were  not  forthcoming,  the  consequences  were 
utter  ruin,  with  the  terrific  blow  of  blasted  character  and 
reputation. 

There  was  a  sum  of  ten  thousand  pounds  settled  on  me 
by  my  grandfather,  which  I  at  once  offered  to  place  at  his 
disposal. 

"  Alas,  my  poor  fellow !  I  have  advanced  already  up- 
wards of  thirty  thousand  of  Julia's  fortune !  No,  no, 
Jack.  I  have  thought  much  over  the  matter;  there  is 
but  one  way  of  escaping  from  this  difficulty.  By  dispos- 
ing of  these  bonds  at  considerable  loss,  I  shall  be  enabled 
to  pay  Julia's  money.  This  will  leave  us  little  better  than 
above  actual  want ;  still,  it  must  be  done.  I  shall  solicit 
a  command  abroad ;  they  '11  not  refuse  me,  I  know.  Lady 
Charlotte  must  retire  to  Bath,  or  some  quiet  place,  which 
in  my  absence  will  appear  less  remarkable.  Strict  economy 
and  time  will  do  much.  And  as  to  yourself,  I  know  that 
having  once  learned  what  you  have  to  look  to  I  shall  have 
no  cause  of  complaint  on  your  score :  the  duke  has  promised 
to  take  care  of  you.  And  now  my  heart  is  lighter  than  it 
has  been  for  some  months  past." 


AN  UNHAPPY  DISCLOSURE.  161 

Before  my  father  had  ceased  speaking  the  shock  of  his 
news  had  gradually  subsided  with  me,  and  I  was  fully 
intent  on  the  details  by  which  he  hoped  to  escape  his 
embarrassments.  My  mother  was  my  first  thought.  Lady 
Charlotte,  I  knew,  could  never  encounter  her  changed  con- 
dition; she  was  certain  to  sink  under  the  very  shock  of  it. 
My  lather,  however,  supposed  that  she  need  not  be  told  its 
full  extent;  that,  by  management,  the  circumstances  should 
be  gradually  made  known  to  her ;  and  he  hoped,  too,  that 
her  interest  in  her  husband  and  son,  both  absent  from  her, 
would  withdraw  her  thoughts  in  great  measure  from  the 
routine  of  fashionable  life,  and  fix  them  in  a  channel  more 
homely  and  domestic. 

"Besides,"  added  he,  with  more  animation  of  voice,  "they 
may  offer  me  some  military  appointment  in  the  colonies, 
where  she  could  accompany  me ;  and  this  will  prevent  an 
exposure.  And,  after  all,  Jack,  there  is  nothing  else  for 
it."  As  he  said  this  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  me,  as  though 
rather  asking  than  answering  the  question. 

Not  knowing  what  to  reply,  I  was  silent. 

"  You  were  fond  of  Julia,  as  a  boy,"  said  he,  carelessly. 

The  blood  rushed  to  my  cheek,  as  I  answered,  "  Yes,  sir ; 
but  —  but  — " 

"But  you  have  outgrown  that  ?  "  added  he,  with  a  smile. 

"Not  so  much,  sir,  as  that  she  has  forgotten  me.  In 
fact,  I  believe  we  are  excellent  cousins." 

"And  it  is  not  now,  my  dear  boy,  I  would  endeavor  to 
make  you  more  to  each  other.  What  is  not  a  union  of  in- 
clination shall  never  be  one  of  sordid  interest.  Besides, 
Jack,  why  should  we  not  take  the  field  together?  The 
very  thought  of  it  makes  me  feel  young  enough !  ** 

I  saw  his  lip  quiver  as  he  spoke ;  and  unable  to  bear 
more,  I  wrung  his  hand  warmly,  and  hurried  away. 


VOL.  II.  — 11 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE    HORSE-GUARDS. 

I  will  not  say  that  my  reverse  of  fortune  did  not  depress 
me  ;  indeed,  the  first  blow  fell  heavily ;  but  that  once  past, 
a  number  of  opposing  motives  rallied  my  courage  and  nerved 
my  heart.  My  father,  I  knew,  relied  on  me  in  this  crisis  to 
support  his  own  strength.  I  had  learned  to  care  less  for 
extravagant  habits  and  expensive  tastes,  by  living  among 
those  who  accorded  them  little  sympathy  and  less  respect. 
Besides,  if  my  changed  career  excluded  me  from  the  race 
of  fashion,  it  opened  the  brilliant  path  of  a  soldier's  life  be- 
fore me ;  and  now  every  hour  seemed  an  age,  until  I  should 
find  myself  among  the  gallant  fellows  who  were  winning 
their  laurels  in  the  battle-fields  of  the  Peninsula. 

According  to  the  duke's  appointment  of  the  preceding 
evening  I  found  myself,  at  ten  o'clock,  punctually  awaiting 
my  turn  to  be  introduced,  in  the  ante-chamber  of  the  Horse- 
Guards.  The  room  was  crowded  with  officers  in  full  dress. 
Some  old  white-haired  generals  of  division  had  been  com- 
ing daily  for  years  past  to  solicit  commands,  their  fitness 
for  which  lay  only  in  their  own  doting  imaginations ;  some, 
broken  by  sickness  and  crippled  with  wounds,  were  seeking 
colonial  appointments  they  never  could  live  to  reach ;  hale 
and  stout  men  in  the  prime  of  life  were  there  also,  entreat- 
ing exchanges  which  should  accommodate  their  wives  and 
daughters,  who  preferred  Bath  or  Cheltenham  to  the  banks 
of  the  Tagus  or  the  snows  of  Canada.  Among  these,  how- 
ever, were  many  fine  soldier-like  fellows,  whose  only  request 
was  to  be  sent  where  hard  knocks  were  going,  careless  of 
the  climate  and  regardless  of  the  cause.  Another  class  were 
thinly  sprinkled  around,  —  young  officers  of  the  staff,  many 


THE   HORSE-GUARDS.  163 

of  them  delicate,  effeminate-looking  figures,  herding  scrupu- 
lously together,  and  never  condescending,  by  word  or  look, 
to  acknowledge  their  brethren  about  them.  In  this  knot 
De  Vere  was  conspicuous  by  the  loud  tone  of  his  voice  and 
the  continued  titter  of  his  unmeaning  laugh.  I  have  already 
mentioned  the  consummate  ease  with  which  he  could  appar- 
ently forget  all  unpleasant  recollections,  and  accost  the  man 
whom  he  should  have  blushed  to  meet.  Now  he  exhibited 
this  power  in  perfection  ;  saluting  me  across  the  room  with 
a  familiar  motion  of  his  hand,  he  called  out,  — 

"  Ah,  Hinton,  you  here,  too  ?  Sick  of  Ireland ;  I  knew 
it  would  come  to  that.  Looking  for  something  near 
town  ?  " 

A  cold  negative,  and  a  colder  bow,  was  my  only  answer. 

Nothing  abashed  by  this,  —  indeed,  to  all  seeming,  quite 
indifferent  to  it,  he  continued,  — 

"  Bad  style  of  thing,  Dublin ;  could  n't  stand  those  con- 
founded talkers,  with  their  old  jokes  from  circuit.  You 
were  horribly  bored,  too ;  I  saw  it." 

"I  beg,  my  lord,"  said  I,  in  a  tone  of  seriousness,  the  best 
exchange  I  could  assume  for  the  deep  annoyance  I  felt,  — 
"  I  beg  that  you  will  not  include  me  in  your  opinions  re- 
specting Ireland ;  I  opine  we  differ  materially  in  our  im- 
pressions on  that  country,  and  perhaps  not  without  reason 
too."  These  latter  words  I  spoke  with  marked  emphasis, 
and  fixing  my  eyes  steadily  on  him. 

"Very  possibly,"  lisped  he,  as  coolly  as  before.  "I  left 
it  without  regret ;  you  apparently  ought  to  be  there  still ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  he  has  it  there,  I  think." 

The  blood  mounted  to  my  face  and  temples  as  I  heard 
these  words,  and  stepping  close  up  beside  him,  I  said  slowly 
and  distinctly,  — 

"  I  thought,  sir,  that  one  lesson  might  have  taught  you 
with  whom  these  liberties  were  practicable." 

As  I  said  thus  much,  the  door  opened,  and  his  Grace  the 
Duke  of  York  appeared.  Abashed  at  having  so  far  forgot- 
ten where  I  was,  I  stood  motionless  and  crimson  for  shame. 
Lord  Dudley,  on  the  contrary,  bowed  reverently  to  his  Royal 


164  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Highness,  without  the  slightest  evidence  of  discomposure 
or  irritation,  his  easy  smile  curling  his  lip. 

The  duke  turned  from  one  to  the  other  of  us  without 
speaking,  his  dark  eyes  piercing,  as  it  were,  into  our  very 
hearts.  "Lord  Dudley  de  Vere,"  said  he  at  length,  "I  have 
signed  your  appointment.  Mr.  Hinton,  I  am  sorry  to  find 
that  the  voice  I  have  heard  more  than  once  within  the  last 
five  minutes,  in  an  angry  tone,  was  yours.  Take  care, 
sir,  that  this  forgetfulness  does  not  grow  upon  you.  The 
colonel  of  the  Twenty-seventh  is  not  the  person  to  overlook 
it,  I  promise  you." 

"  If  your  Eoyal  Highness  —  " 

"  I  must  entreat  you  to  spare  me  any  explanations.  You 
are  gazetted  to  the  Twenty -seventh.  I  hope  you  will  hold 
yourself  in  readiness  for  immediate  embarkation.  Where  's 
the  detachment,  Sir  Howard  ?  " 

"  At  Chatham,  your  Royal  Highness,"  replied  an  old 
officer  behind  the  duke's  shoulder.  At  the  same  moment 
his  Grace  passed  through  the  room,  conversing  as  he  went 
with  different  persons  about  him. 

As  I  turned  away,  I  met  Lord  Dudley's  eyes.  They  were 
riveted  on  me  with  an  expression  of  triumphant  malice  I 
had  never  seen  in  them  before,  and  I  hurried  homeward 
with  a  heart  crushed  and  wounded. 

I  have  but  one  reason  for  the  mention  of  this  trivial  inci- 
dent. It  is  to  show  how  often  the  studied  courtesy,  the  well- 
practised  deception,  that  the  fashion  of  the  world  teaches, 
will  prevail  over  the  heartfelt,  honest  indignation  which 
deep  feeling  evinces ;  and  what  a  vast  superiority  the  very 
affectation  of  temper  confers,  in  the  judgment  of  others  who 
stand  by  the  game  of  life  and  care  nothing  for  the  players 
at  either  side.  Let  no  one  suspect  me  of  lauding  the  mock- 
ery of  virtue  in  what  I  say  here.  I  would  merely  impress 
on  the  young  man  who  can  feel  for  the  deep  sorrow  and 
abasement  I  suffered  the  importance  of  the  attainment  of 
that  self-command,  of  that  restraint  over  any  outbreak  of 
passion,  when  the  very  semblance  of  it  insures  respect  and 
admiration. 


THE  HORSE-GUARDS.  165 

It  is  very  difficult  to  witness  with  indifference  the  pref- 
erence of  those  we  have  once  loved  for  some  other  person  ; 
still  more  so,  when  that  other  chances  to  be  one  we  dislike. 
The  breach  of  affection  seems  then  tinctured  with  a  kind  of 
betrayal ;  we  call  to  mind  how  once  we  swayed  the  temper 
and  ruled  the  thoughts  of  her  who  now  has  thrown  off  her 
allegiance ;  we  feel,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  too,  how  for- 
gotten are  all  our  lessons,  how  dead  is  all  our  wonted  influ- 
ence ;  we  remember  when  the  least  word,  the  slightest 
action,  bent  beneath  our  will ;  when  our  smile  was  happi- 
ness and  our  very  sadness  a  reproof ;  and  now  we  see  our- 
selves unminded  and  neglected,  with  no  more  liberty  to 
advise,  no  more  power  to  control,  than  the  merest  stranger 
of  the  passing  hour.     What  a  wound  to  our  self-love  ! 

That  my  cousin  Julia  loved  De  Vere,  O'Grady's  suspi- 
cions had  already  warned  me ;  the  little  I  had  seen  of  her 
since  my  return  strengthened  the  impression ;  while  his 
confident  manner  and  assured  tone  confirmed  my  worst 
fears.  In  my  heart  I  knew  how  utterly  unworthy  he  was 
of  such  a  girl ;  but  then,  if  he  had  already  won  her  affec- 
tions, my  knowledge  came  too  late.  Besides,  the  changed 
circumstances  of  my  own  fortune,  which  must  soon  become 
known,  would  render  my  interference  suspicious,  and  con- 
sequently of  no  value ;  and,  after  all,  if  I  determined  on 
such  a  course,  what  allegation  could  I  bring  against  him 
which  he  could  not  explain  away  as  the  mere  levity  of  the 
young  officer  associating  among  those  he  looked  down  upon 
and  despised. 

Such  were  some  of  my  reflections  as  I  slowly  returned 
homewards  from  the  Horse-Guards.  As  I  arrived,  a  travel- 
ling-carriage stood  at  the  door;  boxes,  imperials,  and  cap- 
cases  littered  the  hall  and  steps  ;  servants  were  hurrying 
back  and  forward,  and  Mademoiselle  Clemence,  my  mother's 
maid,  with  a  poodle  under  one  arm  and  a  macaw's  cage  in  the 
other,  was  adding  to  the  confusion  by  directions  in  a  compo- 
site language  that  would  have  astonished  Babel  itself. 

"  What  means  all  this  ?  "  said  I.  "  Is  Lady  Charlotte 
leaving  town  ?  " 


156  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Mi  ladi  va  partir —  " 

"  Her  Ladyship  's  going  to  Hastings,  sir,"  said  the  but- 
ler, interrupting.  "  Dr.  Y has  been  here  this  morn- 
ing and  recommends  an  immediate  change  of  air  for  her 
Ladyship." 

"  Is  Sir  George  in  the  house  ?  " 
"  No,  sir,  he  's  just  gone  out  with  the  doctor." 
Ah,  thought  I,  this,  then,  is  a  concerted  measure  to  induce 
my  mother  to  leave  town.     "  Is  Lady  Julia  at  home  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir,  in  the  drawing-room." 
"Whose  horse  is  that  with  the  groom  ?" 
"  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere's,  sir ;  he  's  upstairs." 
Already  had  I  turned  to  go  to  the  drawing-room,  when 
I  heard  these  words.     Suddenly  a  faint,  half-sick  feeling 
came  over  me,  and  I  hastened  upstairs  to  my  own  room, 
actually  dreading  to  meet  any  one  as  I  went.     The  blank 
future   before   me   never   seemed   so  cheerless  as  at  that 
moment,  —  separated,  without  a  chance  of  ever  meeting, 
from  the  only  one  I  ever  really  loved ;    tortured  by  my 
doubts  of  her  feeling  for  me  (for  even  now  what  would  I 
not  have  given  to  know  she  loved  me !);  my  worldly  pros- 
pects ruined ;  without  a  home  ;  my  cousin  Julia,  the  only 
one  who  retained  either  an  interest  in  me  or  seemed  to  care 
for  me,  about  to  give  her  hand  to  the  man  I  hated  and  de- 
spised.    "  How  soon,  and  I  shall  be  alone  in  the  world ! " 
thought  I ;    and  already  the  cold  selfishness  of  isolation 
presented  itself  to  my  mind. 

A  gentle  tap  came  to  the  door.  I  opened  it :  it  was  a 
message  from  Lady  Charlotte,  requesting  to  see  me  in  her 
room.  As  I  passed  the  door  of  the  drawing-room  I  heard 
Lady  Julia  and  Lord  de  Vere  talking  and  laughing  to- 
gether. He  was,  as  usual,  "so  amusing,"  as  my  mother's 
letter  called  him,  —  doubtless,  relating  my  hasty  and  in- 
temperate conduct  at  the  Horse-Guards.  For  an  instant  I 
stopped  irresolute  as  to  whether  I  should  not  break  sud- 
denly in,  and  disconcert  his  Lordship's  practical  coolness 
by  a  disclosure  :  my  better  reason  prevented  me,  and  I 
passed  on.     Lady  Charlotte  was  seated  in  a  deep  armchair, 


THE   HORSE-GUARDS.  167 

inspecting  the  packing  of  various  articles  of  toilette  and 
jewelry  which  were  going  on  around  her,  her  cheek  some- 
what flushed  from  even  this  small  excitement. 

"  Ah,  dearest  John,  how  d'  ye  do  ?  Find  a  chair  some- 
where, and  sit  down  by  me  ;  you  see  what  confusion  we  're 

in.     Dr.  Y found  there  was  not  an  hour  to  spare  ;  the 

heart  he  suspects  to  be  sympathetically  engaged —  Don't 
put  that  Chantilly  veil  there,  I  shall  never  get  at  it  —  and 
he  advises  Hastings  for  the  present.  He 's  coming  with 
us,  however —  I'll  wear  that  ring,  Clemence —  and  I 
must  insist  at  his  looking  at  you.  You  are  very  pale  to- 
dav,  and  dark  under  the  eyes ;  have  you  any  pain  in  the 
side  ?  " 

,;Xone  whatever,  my  dear  mother;  I  'm  quite  well." 

"Pain  is,  however,  a  late  symptom;  my  attack  began 
with  an  —  a  sense  of  —  it  was  rather  —  Has  Rundal  not 
sent  back  that  bracelet  ?  How  very  provoking !  Could 
you  call  there,  dear  John?  —  that  tiresome  man  never 
minds  the  servants,  — it's  just  on  your  way  to  the  club,  or 
the  Horse-Guards,  or  somewhere." 

I  could  scarce  help  a  smile,  as  I  promised  not  to  forget 
the  commission. 

"  And  now,  my  dear,  how  did  his  Grace  receive  you  ? 
You  saw  him  this  morning  ?  " 

"  My  interview  was  quite  satisfactory  on  the  main  point. 
I  am  appointed  to  the  Twenty-seventh." 

"  Why  not  on  the  staff,  dear  John  ?  You  surely  don't 
mean  to  leave  England !  Having  been  abroad  already,  —  in 
Ireland  I  mean,  —  it 's  very  hard  to  expect  you  to  go  so 
soon  again.  Lady  Jane  Colthurst's  son  has  never  been  far- 
ther from  her  than  Knightsbridge ;  and  I  'm  sure  I  don't 
see  why  we  are  to  be  treated  worse  than  she  is." 

"  But  my  own  wish  —  " 

"Your  own  wish,  my  dear,  could  never  be  to  give  me 
uneasiness,  which  I  assure  you  you  did  very  considerably 
while  in  Ireland.  The  horrid  people  you  made  acquaint- 
ance with  —  my  health,  I  'm  certain,  could  never  sustain  a 
repetition  of  the  shock  I  experienced  then." 


168  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

My  mother  leaned  back  and  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  some 
very  dreadf  al  circumstance  was  passing  across  her  memory ; 
and  I,  half  ashamed  of  the  position  to  which  she  would  con- 
demn me,  was  silent. 

"  There,  that  aigrette  will  do  very  well  there,  I  'in  sure. 
I  don't  know  why  you  are  putting  in  all  these  things  ;  I 
shall  never  want  them  again,  in  all  likelihood." 

The  depressed  tone  in  which  these  words  were  spoken 
did  not  affect  me  much ;  for  I  knew  well,  from  long  habit, 
how  my  mother  loved  to  dwell  on  the  possibility  of  that 
event,  the  bare  suggestion  of  which,  from  another,  she 
couldn't  have  endured. 

Just  at  this  moment  Julia  entered  in  her  travelling  dress, 
a  shawl  thrown  negligently  across  her  shoulders. 

"  I  hope  I  have  not  delayed  you.  John,  are  we  to  have 
your  company  too  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  my  mother,  languidly,  "  he  's  going 
to  leave  us.     Some  foolish  notion  of  active  service  —  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Julia,  not  waiting  for  the  conclusion  of 
the  speech,  —  "  indeed  !  "  She  drew  near  me,  and  as  she 
did  so  her  color  became  heightened,  and  her  dark  eyes  grew 
darker  and  more  meaning.     "  You  never  told  me  this  !  " 

"  I  only  knew  it  about  an  hour  ago  myself,"  replied  I, 
coolly ;  "  and  when  I  was  about  to  communicate  my  news 
to  you  I  found  you  were  engaged  with  a  visitor,  —  Lord  de 
Vere,  I  think." 

"  Ah,  yes,  very  true ;  he  was  here,"  she  said  quickly ; 
and  then  perceiving  that  my  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  she 
turned  away  her  head  hastily,  and  in  evident  confusion. 

"  Dear  me,  is  it  so  late  ?  "  said  my  mother  with  a  sigh. 
"  I  have  some  calls  to  make  yet.  Don't  you  think,  John, 
you  could  take  them  off  my  hands  ?  It 's  only  to  drop  a 
card  at  Lady  Blair's ;  and  you  could  ask  if  Caroline 's  bet- 
ter,—  though,  poor  thing,  she  can't  be,  of  course;  Dr.  Y 

says  her  malady  is  exactly  my  own.  And  then  if  you  are 
passing  Long's,  tell  Sir  Charles  that  our  whist-party  is  put 
off,  —  perhaps  Grammont  has  told  him  already.  You  may 
mention  to  Saunders  that  I  shall  not  want  the  horses  till  I 


THE  HORSE-GUARDS.  169 

return  ;  .and  say  I  detest  grays,  they  are  so  like  city  peo- 
ple's equipages;  and  wait  an  instant,"  —  here  her  Ladyship 
took  a  small  ivory  memorandum  tablet  from  the  table,  and 
began  reading  from  it  a  list  of  commissions,  some  of  them 
most  ludicrously  absurd.  In  the  midst  of  the  catalogue  my 
father  entered  hastily  with  his  watch  in  his  hand. 

"You'll  be  dreadfully  late  on  the  road,  Charlotte;  and 
you  forget  Y must  be  back  here  early  to-morrow." 

"  So  I  had  forgotten  it,"  said  she  with  some  animation ; 
"  but  we  're  quite  ready  now.  Clemence  has  done  every- 
thing, I  think.  Come,  John,  give  me  your  arm,  my  dear : 
Julia  always  takes  this  side.  Are  you  certain  it  won't  rain^ 
Sir  George  ?  " 

"  I  really  cannot  be  positive,"  said  my  father,  smiling. 

"  I  'm  sure  there 's  thunder  in  the  air,"  rejoined  my 
mother;  "my  nerves  would  never  bear  a  storm." 

Some  dreadful  catastrophe  in  the  West  Indies,  where  an 
earthquake  had  swallowed  up  a  whole  population,  occurred 
to  her  memory  at  the  instant,  and  the  possibility  of  some- 
thing similar  occurring  between  Seven  Oaks  and  Tunbridge 
seemed  to  engross  her  entire  attention.  By  this  time  we 
reached  the  hall,  where  the  servants,  drawn  up  in  double 
file,  stood  in  respectful  silence.  My  mother's  eyes  were, 
however,  directed  upon  a  figure  which  occupied  the  place 
next  the  door,  and  whose  costume  certainly  was  strangely 
at  variance  with  the  accurate  liveries  about  him.  An  old 
white  great-coat  with  some  twenty  capes  reaching  nearly 
to  the  ground  (for  the  garment  had  been  originally  destined 
for  a  much  larger  person),  a  glazed  hat  fastened  down  with 
a  handkerchief  passed  over  it  and  tied  under  the  chin,  and 
a  black-thorn  stick  with  a  little  bundle  at  the  end  of  it  were 
his  most  remarkable  equipments. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  can  it  be  doing  there  ?  "  said  my 
mother,  in  a  Siddons  tone  of  voice. 

"What  is  it?  Corny  Delany,  no  less,"  croaked  out  the 
little  man  in  the  crankiest  tone  of  his  harsh  voice.  "  It 's 
what  remains  of  me,  at  laste  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Julia,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  "  Corny 's 


170 


JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 


coming  as  my  body-guard.  He  '11  sit  in  the  rumble  with 
Thomas." 

"  What  a  shocking  figure  it  is !  "  said  my  mother,  survey- 
ing him  through  her  glass. 

"  Time  does  n't  improve  either  of  us,"  said  Corny,  with 
the  grin  of  a  demon :    happily  the  observation  was  only 


heard  by  myself.  "Is  it  in  silk  stockings  I'd  be  trapesing 
about  the  roads  all  night,  with  the  rheumatiz  in  the  small 
of  my  back  !     Ugh,  the  hay  thins  ! " 

My  mother  was  at  length  seated  in  the  carriage,  with 
Julia  beside  her,  —  the  hundred  and  one  petty  annoyances 
to  make  travelling  uncomfortable,  by  way  of  rendering  it 
supportable,  around  her ;  Corny  had  mounted  to  his  place 
beside  Thomas,  who  regarded  him  with  a  look  of  as  pro- 
found contempt  as  a  sleek,  well-fed  pointer  would  confer 
upon  some  mangy  mongrel  of  the  road-side  ;  a  hurried  good- 
by  from  my  mother,  a  quick,  short  glance  from  Julia,  a  whis- 
per lost  in  the  crash  of  the  wheels,  —  and  they  were  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    RETREAT    FROM    BURGOS. 

Few  men  have  gone  through  life  without  passing  through 
certain  periods  which,  although  not  marked  by  positive  mis- 
fortune, were  yet  so  impressed  by  gloom  and  despondence 
that  their  very  retrospect  is  saddening.  Happy  it  is  for  us 
that  in  after  days  our  memory  is  but  little  retentive  of 
these.  We  remember  the  shadows  that  darkened  over  the 
landscape  ;  but  we  forget  in  great  part  their  cause  and  their 
duration,  and  perhaps  even  sometimes  are  disposed  to  smile 
at  the  sources  of  grief  to  which  long  habit  of  the  world  and 
its  ways  would  have  made  us  callous. 

I  was  almost  alone  in  the  world,  —  bereft  of  fortune, 
separated  irrevocably  from  the  only  one  I  loved,  and  by 
whom  I  had  reason  to  think  my  affection  was  returned.  In 
that  home  to  which  I  should  have  looked  for  fondness  I 
found  only  gloom  and  misfortune,  —  my  mother  grown  in- 
sensible to  everything  save  some  frivolous  narrative  of  her 
own  health ;  my  father,  once  high-spirited  and  free-hearted, 
care-worn,  depressed,  and  broken ;  my  cousin,  my  early 
play-fellow,  half  sweetheart  and  half  sister,  bestowing  her 
heart  and  affections  on  one  so  unworthy  of  her.  All  lost  to 
me,  — and  at  a  time,  too,  when  the  heart  is  too  weak  and 
tender  to  stand  alone,  but  must  cling  to  something,  or  it 
sinks  upon  the  earth,  crushed  and  trodden  upon. 

I  looked  back  upon  my  past  life,  and  thought  over  the 
happy  hours  I  had  spent  in  the  wild  west,  roaming  through 
its  deep  valleys  and  over  its  heath-clad  mountains.  I 
thought  of  her  my  companion  through  many  a  long  summer- 
day  by  the  rocky  shore,  against  which  the  white  waves 
were  ever   beating,  watching   the  sea-birds   careering  full 


172  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

many  a  fathom  deep  below  us,  mixing  their  shrill  cries 
with  the  wilder  plash  of  the  ever  restless  sea,  —  and  how 
we  dreamed  away  those  hours,  now  half  in  sadness,  now 
in  bright  hope  of  long  years  to  come,  and  found  ourselves 
thus  wandering  hand  in  hand,  loved  and  loving ;  and  then 
I  looked  out  upon  the  bleak  world  before  me,  without  an 
object  to  win,  without  a  goal  to  strive  at. 

"  Come,  Jack,"  said  my  father,  laying  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  and  startling  me  out  of  my  reverie,  "  one  piece  of 
good  fortune  we  have  had.  The  duke  has  given  me  the 
command  at  Chatham ;  some  hint  of  my  altered  cir- 
cumstances, it  seems,  had  reached  him,  and  without  my 
applying,  he  most  kindly  sent  for  me  and  told  me  of  my 
appointment.  You  must  join  the  service  companies  of  the 
Twenty-seventh  by  to-morrow ;  they  are  under  sailing- 
orders,  and  no  time  is  to  be  lost.  I  told  his  Grace  that  for 
all  your  soft  looks  and  smooth  chin  there  was  no  lack  of 
spirit  in  your  heart ;  and  you  must  take  an  eagle,  Jack,  if 
you  would  keep  up  my  credit." 

Laughingly  spoken  as  these  few  words  were,  they  some- 
how struck  upon  a  chord  that  had  long  lain  silent  in  my 
heart,  and  as  suddenly  awoke  in  me  the  burning  desire  for 
distinction,  and  the  ambitious  thirst  of  military  glory. 

The  next  evening  at  sunset  the  transport  weighed  an- 
chor and  stood  out  to  sea.  A  slight  breeze  off  shore  and  an 
ebb-tide  carried  us  gently  away  from  land ;  and  as  night 
was  falling  I  stood  alone,  leaning  on  the  bulwarks,  and 
looking  fixedly  on  the  faint  shadows  of  the  tall  chalk- 
cliffs,  my  father's  last  words,  "You  must  take  an  eagle, 
Jack !  "  still  ringing  in  my  ears,  and  sinking  deeply  into 
my  heart. 

Had  my  accidents  by  flood  and  field  been  more  numerous 
and  remarkable  than  they  were,  the  recently-told  adven- 
tures of  my  friend  Charles  O'Malley  would  prevent  my 
giving  them  to  the  public.  The  subaltern  of  a  marching 
regiment,  —  a  crack  corps,  it  is  true,  —  I  saw  merely  the 
ordinary  detail  of  a  campaigning  life ;  and  although  my 
desire  to  distinguish  myself  rose  each  day  higher,  the  great- 


THE   RETREAT  FROM   BURGOS.  173 

est  extent  of  my  renown  went  no  further  than  the  admira- 
tion of  my  comrades  that  one  so  delicately  nurtured  and 
brought  up  should  bear  so  cheerfully  and  well  the  rough- 
ings  of  a  Soldier's  life  ;  and  my  sobriquet  of  "  Jack  Hin- 
ton,  the  Guardsman,"  was  earned  among  the  stormy  scenes 
and  blood-stained  fields  of  the  Peninsula. 

My  first  experiences  of  military  life  were  indeed  but  little 
encouraging.  I  joined  the  army  in  the  disastrous  retreat 
from  Burgos.  What  a  shock  to  all  my  cherished  notions  of 
a  campaign  !  How  sadly  different  to  my  ideas  of  the  pride, 
pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war !  I  remember  well 
we  first  came  up  with  the  retiring  forces  on  the  morning  of 
the  4th  of  November.  The  day  broke  heavily ;  masses  of 
dark  and  weighty  clouds  drifted  across  the  sky.  The 
ground  was  soaked  with  rain,  and  a  cold,  chilling  wind 
swept  across  the  bleak  plain,  and  moaned  dismally  in  the 
dark  pine-woods.  Our  party,  which  consisted  of  drafts 
from  the  Fiftieth,  Twenty-seventh,  and  Seventy-first  regi- 
ments, were  stationed  in  a  few  miserable  hovels  on  the  side 
of  the  high-road  from  Madrid  to  Labeyos.  By  a  mistake  of 
the  way  we  had  missed  a  body  of  troops  on  the  preceding 
day,  and  were  now  halted  here  in  expectation  of  joining 
some  of  the  corps  retiring  on  the  Portuguese  frontier. 
Soon  after  daybreak  a  low  rumbling  sound,  at  first  supposed 
to  be  the  noise  of  distant  cannonading,  attracted  our  atten- 
tion ;  but  some  stragglers  coming  up  soon  after,  informed 
us  that  it  proceeded  from  tumbrels  and  ammunition-wagons 
of  Sir  Lowry  Cole's  brigade,  then  on  the  march.  The  news 
was  scarcely  communicated,  when  the  head  of  a  column 
appeared  topping  the  hill. 

As  they  came  nearer,  we  remarked  that  the  men  did  not 
keep  their  ranks,  but  strayed  across  the  road  from  side  to 
side ;  some  carried  their  muskets  by  the  sling,  others  on 
the  shoulder ;  some  leaned  on  their  companions,  as  though 
faint  and  sick ;  and  many  there  were  whose  savage  looks 
and  bloated  features  denoted  drunkenness.  The  uniforms 
were  torn  and  ragged ;  several  of  the  men  had  no  shoes,  and 
some  even  had  lost  their  caps  and  shakos,  and  wore  hand- 


174  JACK   HINTON.  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

kerchiefs  bound  round  their  heads.  Among  these  the  offi- 
cers were  almost  undistinguishable ;  fatigue,  hardship,  and 
privation  had  levelled  them  with  the  men,  and  discipline 
scarcely  remained  in  that  disorganized  mass.  On  they  came, 
their  eyes  bent  only  on  the  long  vista  of  road  that  lay  be- 
fore them.  Some,  silent  and  sad,  trudged  on  side  by  side ; 
others,  maddened  by  drink  or  wild  with  the  excitement 
of  fever,  uttered  frightful  and  horrible  ravings.  Some 
flourished  their  bayonets,  and  threatened  all  within  their 
reach ;  and  denunciations  of  their  officers  and  open  avowals 
of  desertion  were  heard  on  every  side  as  they  went.  The 
bugle  sounded  a  halt  as  the  column  reached  the  little  ham- 
let where  we  were  stationed ;  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  road 
and  the  fields  at  either  side  were  covered  with  the  figures 
of  the  men,  who  threw  themselves  down  on  the  spot  where 
they  stood,  in  every  posture  that  weariness  and  exhaustion 
could  suggest. 

All  the  information  we  could  collect  was  that  this  force 
formed  part  of  the  rear-guard  of  the  army ;  that  the  French 
under  Marshal  Soult  were  hotly  in  pursuit,  having  already 
driven  in  the  cavalry  outposts,  and  more  than  once  throw- 
ing their  skirmishers  amongst  our  fellows.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  bugle  again  sounded  to  resume  the  march ; 
and  however  little  disposed  to  yield  to  the  dictates  of 
discipline,  yet  old  habit,  stronger  than  even  lawless  insub- 
ordination, prevailed ;  the  men  rose,  and  falling  in  with 
some  semblance  of  order,  continued  their  way.  Nothing 
struck  me  more  in  that  motley  mass  of  ragged  uniform 
and  patched  clothing  than  the  ferocious,  almost  savage, 
expression  of  the  soldiers  as  they  marched  past  our  better 
equipped  and  better  disciplined  party.  Their  dark  scowl 
betokened  deadly  hate ;  and  I  could  see  the  young  men  of 
our  detachment  quail  beneath  the  insulting  ruffianism  of 
their  gaze.  Every  now  and  then  some  one  or  other  would 
throw  down  his  pack  or  knapsack  to  the  ground,  and  with 
an  oath  asseverate  his  resolve  to  carry  it  no  longer.  Some 
even  declared  they  would  abandon  their  muskets  ;  and  more 
than  one  sat  down  by  the  way-side,  preferring  death  or  im- 


THE   RETREAT  FROM   BURGOS.      ■  176 

prisonment  from  the  enemy  to  the  horrors  and  severities 
of  that  dreadful  march. 

The  Highland  regiments  and  the  Guards  alone  preserved 
their  former  discipline ;  the  latter,  indeed,  had  only  lately 
joined  the  army,  having  landed  at  Corunna  a  few  weeks 
previously,  and  were  perfect  in  every  species  of  equipment. 
Joining  myself  to  a  group  of  their  officers,  I  followed  in 
the  march,  and  was  enabled  to  learn  some  tidings  of  my 
friend  O'Grady,  who,  I  was  glad  to  hear,  was  only  a  few 
miles  in  advance  of  us,  with  his  regiment. 

Towards  three  o'clock  we  entered  a  dark  pine-wood, 
through  which  the  route  continued  for  several  miles.  Here 
the  march  became  extremely  difficult,  from  the  deep  clayey 
soil,  the  worn  and  cut-up  road,  and  more  than  all  the  tor- 
rents of  rain  that  swept  along  the  narrow  gorge,  and  threw 
a  darkness  almost  like  night  over  everything.  We  plodded 
on  gloomily  and  scarcely  speaking,  when  suddenly  the  gal- 
loping of  horses  was  heard  in  the  rear,  and  we  were  joined 
by  Sir  Edward  Paget,  who,  with  a  single  aide-de-camp,  rode 
up  to  our  division.  After  a  few  hurried  questions  to  the 
officer  in  command,  he  wheeled  his  horse  round,  and  rode 
back  towards  the  next  column,  which,  from  some  accidental 
delay,  was  yet  two  miles  in  the  rear.  The  sound  of  the 
horse's  hoofs  was  still  ringing  along  the  causeway,  when 
a  loud  shout,  followed  by  the  sharp  reports  of  pistol-firing, 
mingled  with  the  voice.  In  an  instant  all  was  as  still  as 
before,  and  save  the  crashing  of  the  pine-branches  and  the 
beating  rain,  no  other  sound  was  heard. 

Our  conjectures  as  to  the  cause  of  the  firing  were  just 
making,  when  an  orderly  dragoon,  bare-headed  and  wounded, 
came  up  at  the  top  of  his  horse's  speed.  The  few  hurried 
words  he  spoke  in  a  half  whisper  to  our  commanding  officer 
were  soon  reported  through  the  lines.  Sir  Edward  Paget, 
our  second  in  command,  had  been  taken  prisoner,  carried 
away  by  a  party  of  French  cavalry,  who  were  daring  enough 
to  dash  in  between  the  columns,  which  in  no  other  retreat 
had  they  ventured  to  approach.  The  temerity  of  our  enemy, 
added  to  our  own  dispirited  and  defenceless  condition,  was 


176  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

the  only  thing  wanting  to  complete  our  gloom  and  depres- 
sion, and  the  march  was  now  resumed  in  the  dogged  sullen- 
ness  of  despair. 

Day  followed  day,  and  all  the  miseries  of  our  state  but 
increased  with  time,  till  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  the 
town  of  Ciudad  Rodrigo  came  in  view,  and  the  rumor  spread 
that  stores  of  all  kinds  would  be  served  out  to  the  famished 
troops. 

By  insubordination  and  intemperance  we  had  lost  seven 
thousand  men  since  the  day  the  retreat  from  Burgos  be- 
gan, and  although  neither  harassed  by  night  marches  nor 
excessive  journeys,  losing  neither  guns,  ammunition,  nor 
standards,  yet  was  the  memorable  document  addressed  by 
Wellington  to  the  officers  commanding  divisions  but  too 
justly  merited,  concluding  in  these  words  :  — 

"  The  discipline  of  every  army,  after  a  long  and  active  campaign, 
becomes  in  some  degree  relaxed  ;  but  I  am  concerned  to  observe  that 
the  army  under  my  command  has  fallen  off  in  this  respect  to  a  greater 
degree  than  any  army  with  which  I  have  ever  been,  or  of  which  I 
have  ever  read." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    MISHAP. 

If  I  began  niy  career  as  a  soldier  at  one  of  the  gloomiest 
periods  of  our  Peninsular  struggle,  I  certainly  was  soon  des- 
tined to  witness  one  of  the  most  brilliant  achievements  of 
our  arms  in  the  opening  of  the  campaign  of  1813. 

On  the  22d  of  May  the  march  began,  —  that  forward 
movement,  for  the  hour  of  whose  coming  many  a  heart 
had  throbbed,  and  many  a  bosom  beat  high.  From  Ciudad 
Rodrigo  to  the  frontier  our  way  led  through  the  scenes 
of  former  glory ;  and  if  the  veterans  of  the  army  exulted 
at  once  again  beholding  the  battle-fields  where  victory  had 
crowned  their  arms,  the  new  soldiers  glowed  with  ambition 
to  emulate  their  fame.  As  for  myself,  short  as  the  period 
had  been  since  I  quitted  England,  I  felt  that  my  character 
had  undergone  a  very  great  change  ;  the  wandering  fancies 
of  the  boy  had  sobered  down  into  the  more  fixed,  determined 
passions  of  the  man.  The  more  I  thought  of  the  inglori- 
ous indolence  of  my  former  life,  the  stronger  was  now  my 
desire  to  deserve  a  higher  reputation  than  that  of  a  mere 
lounger  about  a  court,  the  military  accompaniment  of  a 
pageant.  Happily  for  me,  I  knew  not  at  the  time  how  few 
opportunities  for  distinction  are  afforded  by  the  humble 
position  of  a  subaltern;  how  seldom  occasions  arise  where, 
amid  the  mass  around  him,  his  name  can  win  praise  or  honor. 
I  knew  not  this ;  and  my  reverie  by  day,  my  dream  by  night, 
presented  but  one  image,  —  that  of  some  bold,  successful 
deed,  by  which  I  should  be  honorably  known  and  proudly 
mentioned,  or  my  death  be  that  of  a  brave  soldier  in  the 
field  of  glory. 

It  may  be  remembered  by  my  reader  that  in  the  cele- 
brated march  by  which  Wellington  opened  that  campaign 

VOL.  II. 12 


178  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

whose  result  was  the  expulsion  of  the  French  armies  from 
the  Peninsular,  the  British  left,  under  the  command  of 
Graham,  was  always  in  advance  of  the  main  body.  Their 
route  traversed  the  wild  and  dreary  passes  of  the  Tras-os- 
Montes,  a  vast  expanse  of  country,  with  scarcely  a  road  to 
be  met  with,  and  but  few  inhabitants;  the  solitary  glens 
and  gloomy  valleys,  whose  echoes  had  waked  to  no  other 
sounds  save  those  of  the  wild  heron  or  the  eagle,  were  now 
to  resound  with  the  thundering  roll  of  artillery  wagons,  the 
clanking  crash  of  cavalry  columns,  or  the  monotonous  din 
of  the  infantry  battalions,  as  from  sunrise  to  sunset  they 
poured  along,  — now  scaling  the  rugged  height  of  some  bold 
mountain,  now  disappearing  among  the  wooded  depths  of 
some  dark  ravine. 

Owing  to  a  temporary  appointment  on  the  staff,  I  was 
continually  passing  and  repassing  between  this  portion  of 
the  army  and  the  force  under  the  immediate  command  of 
Lord  Wellington.  Starting  at  daybreak,  I  have  set  off 
alone  through  these  wild  untravelled  tracts,  where  moun- 
tains rose  in  solemn  grandeur,  their  dark  sides  wooded 
with  the  gloomy  cork-tree,  or  rent  by  some  hissing  torrent 
whose  splash  was  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  universal 
silence,  —  now  dashing  on  with  speed  across  the  grassy 
plain,  now  toiling  along  on  foot,  the  bridle  on  my  arm,  — 
I  have  seen  the  sun  go  down  and  never  heard  a  human 
voice,  nor  seen  the  footsteps  of  a  fellow-man ;  and  yet  what 
charms  had  those  lonely  hours  for  me,  and  what  a  crowd 
of  blissful  thoughts  and  happy  images  they  yet  bring  back 
to  me  !  The  dark  glen,  the  frowning  precipice,  the  clear 
rivulet  gurgling  on  amid  the  mossy  stones,  the  long  and 
tangled  weeds  that  hung  in  festoons  down  some  rocky  cliff, 
through  whose  fissured  sides  the  water  fell  in  heavy  drops 
into  a  little  basin  at  its  foot,  —  all  spoke  to  me  of  the  hap- 
piest hours  of  my  life,  when,  loved  and  loving,  I  wandered 
on  the  livelong  day.  How  often,  as  the  day  was  falling, 
have  I  sat  down  to  rest  beneath  some  tall  beech,  gazing  on 
the  glorious  expanse  of  mountain  and  valley,  hill  and  plain, 
and  winding  river,  —  all  beneath  me  ;  and  how,  as  I  looked, 


A   MISHAP.  179 

have  my  thoughts  wandered  away  from  those  to  many  a 
far-off  mile  ;  and  then  what  doubts  and  hopes  would  crowd 
upon  me !  Was  I  forgotten  ?  Had  time  and  distance 
wiped  away  all  memory  of  me  ?  Was  I  as  one  she  had 
never  seen,  or  was  she  still  to  me  as  when  we  parted  ?  In 
such  moments  as  these  how  often  have  I  recurred  to  our 
last  meeting  at  the  holy  well,  —  and  still,  I  own  it,  some 
vague  feeling  of  superstition  has  spoken  hope  to  my  heart, 
when  reason  alone  had  bid  me  despair. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  a  sultry  day,  — the  first  of  June ;  I 
shall  not  readily  forget  it,  —  that,  overcome  by  fatigue  I 
threw  myself  down  beneath  the  shelter  of  a  grove  of  aca- 
cias, and,  tethering  my  horse  with  his  bridle,  fell  into  one 
of  my  accustomed  reveries.  The  heat  of  the  day,  the 
drowsy  hum  of  the  summer  insects,  the  very  monotonous 
champ  of  my  horse,  feeding  beside  me,  —  all  conspired  to 
make  me  sleepy,  and  I  fell  into  a  heavy  slumber.  My 
dreams,  like  my  last-waking  thoughts,  were  of  home ;  but, 
strangely  enough,  the  scenes  through  which  I  had  been 
travelling,  the  officers  with  whom  I  was  intimate,  the  wild 
guerilla  chiefs  who  from  time  to  time  crossed  my  path  or 
shared  my  bivouac,  were  mixed  up  with  objects  and  persons 
many  a  mile  away,  making  that  odd  and  incongruous  col- 
lection which  we  so  often  experience  in  sleep.  A  kind  of 
low,  unbroken  sound,  like  the  tramp  of  cavalry  over  grass, 
awoke  me ;  but  still,  such  was  my  drowsiness  that  I  was 
again  about  to  relapse  into  sleep,  when  the  sound  of  a 
manly  voice,  singing  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  beneath  me, 
fully  aroused  me.  I  started  up,  and,  peeping  cautiously 
over  the  head  of  the  cliff,  beheld  to  my  surprise  and  terror 
a  party  of  French  soldiers  stretched  upon  the  greensward 
around  a  fire.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  the  im- 
perial troops,  and  notwithstanding  the  danger  of  my  posi- 
tion I  felt  a  most  unaccountable  longing  to  creep  nearer 
and  watch  their  proceedings.  The  sounds  I  had  heard  at 
first  became  at  this  moment  more  audible  ;  and  on  looking 
down  the  glen  I  perceived  a  party  of  about  twenty  dra- 
goons cantering  up  the  valley.     They  were  dressed  in  the 


180 


JACK  HIXTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 


uniform  of  the  Chasseur  Legers,  and  in  their  light-blue 
jackets  and  silvered  helmets  had  a  most  striking  and  pic- 
turesque effect. 

My  astonishment  at  their  appearance  was  not  diminished 
by  the  figure  who  rode  gayly  along  at  their  head.  She  was 
a  young  and  pretty-looking  girl,  dressed  in  a  blue  frock  and 
jean  trousers  ;  a  light  foraging  cap,  with  the  number  of  the 


regiment  worked  in  silver  on  the  front,  and  a  small  canteen 
suspended  from  one  shoulder  by  a  black  belt  completed  her 
equipment.  Her  hair,  of  a  glossy  black,  was  braided  richly 
at  either  side  of  her  face,  and  a  couple  of  bows  of  light  blue 
attested  a  degree  of  coquetry  the  rest  of  her  costume  gave 
no  evidence  of.  She  rode  en  cavalier ;  and  the  easy  atti- 
tude in  which  she  sat,  and  her  steady  hand  on  the  bridle, 
denoted  that  the  regimental  riding-school  had  contributed 
to  her  accomplishments.  I  had  heard  before  of  the  Vivan- 
dieres  of  the  French  army,  but  was  in  nowise  prepared  for 
the  really  pretty  figure  and  costume  I  now  beheld. 


A  MISHAP.  181 

As  the  riding-party  approached,  the  others  sprang  to 
their  feet,  and  drawing  up  in  line  performed  a  mock  salute, 
which  the  young  lady  returned  with  perfect  gravity ;  and 
then,  carelessly  throwing  her  bridle  to  the  one  nearest,  she 
dismounted.  In  a  few  moments  the  horses  were  pic- 
quetted;  the  packs  were  scattered  about  the  grass;  cooking 
utensils,  provisions,  and  wine  were  distributed  ;  and,  amid 
a  perfect  din  of  merry  voices  and  laughter,  the  preparations 
for  dinner  were  commenced.  Mademoiselle's  part,  on  the 
whole,  amused  me  not  a  little.  Not  engaging  in  any  of  the 
various  occupations  about  her,  she  seated  herself  on  a  pile 
of  cavalry  cloaks  at  a  little  distance  from  the  rest,  and  tak- 
ing out  a  much-worn  and  well-thumbed-looking  volume 
from  the  pocket  of  her  coat,  she  began  to  read  to  herself 
with  the  most  perfect  unconcern  of  all  that  was  going  on 
about  her.  Meanwhile  the  operations  of  the  cuisine  were 
conducted  with  a  despatch  and  dexterity  that  only  French 
soldiers  ever  attain  to;  and,  shall  I  confess  it,  the  rich 
odor  that  steamed  upwards  from  the  well-seasoned  potage, 
the  savory  smell  of  the  roast  kid,  albeit  partaking  of 
onions,  and  the  brown  breasts  of  certain  poulets  made  me 
wish  heartily  that  for  half  an  hour  or  so  I  could  have 
changed  my  allegiance,  converted  myself  into  a  soldat  de  la 
garde,  and  led  mademoiselle  in  to  dinner. 

At  length  the  party  beneath  had  arranged  their  meal 
upon  the  grass  ;  and  the  corporal,  with  an  air  of  no  incon- 
siderable pretension,  took  Mademoiselle's  hand  to  conduct 
her  to  the  place  of  honor  at  the  head  of  the  feast,  — calling 
out  as  he  did,  "Place,  Messieurs,  place  pour  Madame  la 
Duchesse  de  —  de  —  " 

"  N'importe  quoi,"  said  another ;  "  the  Emperor  has 
many  a  battle  to  win  yet,  and  many  a  kingdom  and  a 
duchy  to  give  away.  As  for  myself,  I  count  upon  the 
baton  of  a  marshal  before  the  campaign  closes." 

"Have  done,  I  beg  you,  with  such  folly,  and  help  me  to 
some  of  that  salmi"  said  the  lady,  with  a  much  more  prac- 
tical look  about  her  than  her  expression  a  few  moments 
before  denoted. 


182  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

The  feast  now  progressed  with  all  the  clatter  which  little 
ceremony,  hearty  appetites,  and  good  fellowship  produce. 
The  wine  went  round  freely,  and  the  qui  r>ropos,  if  I  might 
judge  from  their  mirth,  were  not  wanting ;  for  I  could  but 
catch  here  and  there  a  stray  word  or  so  of  the  conversation. 

All  this  time  my  own  position  was  far  from  agreeable. 
Independent  of  the  fact  of  being  a  spectator  of  a  good 
dinner  and  a  jolly  party  while  famishing  with  hunger  and 
thirst,  my  chance  of  escape  depended  either  on  the  party 
moving  forward,  or  being  so  insensible  from  the  effects  of 
their  carouse  that  I  might  steal  away  unobserved.  While  I 
balanced  with  myself  which  of  these  alternatives  was  more 
likely,  an  accident  decided  the  question.  My  horse,  who 
up  to  this  moment  was  grazing  close  beside  me,  hearing  one 
of  the  troop-horses  neigh  in  the  valley  beneath,  pricked  up 
his  ears,  plunged  upwards,  broke  the  bridle  with  which  I 
had  fastened  him,  and  cantered  gayly  down  into  the  midst 
of  the  picquetted  animals.  In  an  instant  every  man  sprang 
to  his  legs  ;  some  rushed  to  their  holsters  and  drew  forth 
their  pistols  ;  others  caught  up  their  sabres  from  the  grass ; 
and  the  young  lady  herself  tightened  her  girth  and  sprang 
into  her  saddle  with  the  alacrity  of  one  accustomed  to 
moments  of  danger.  All  was  silence  now  for  a  couple  of 
minutes,  except  the  slight  noise  of  the  troopers  engaged  in 
bridling  their  horses  and  fixing  on  their  packs,  when  a  loud 
voice  called  out,  "  Voila  !  "  and  the  same  instant  every  eye 
in  the  party  was  directed  to  my  shako,  which  hung  on  a 
branch  of  a  tree  above  me,  and  which  up  to  this  moment  I 
had  forgotten.  Before  I  could  determine  on  any  line  of 
escape,  three  of  the  number  had  rushed  up  the  rock,  and 
with  drawn  sabres  commanded  me  to  surrender  myself 
their  prisoner.  There  was  no  choice  ;  I  flung  down  my 
sword  with  an  air  of  sulky  resignation,  and  complied.  My 
despatches,  of  which  they  soon  rifled  me,  sufficiently  ex- 
plained the  cause  of  my  journey,  and  allayed  any  apprehen- 
sions they  might  have  felt  as  to  a  surprise  party.  A  few 
brief  questions  were  all  they  put  to  me  ;  and  then,  con- 
ducting me  down  the  cliff  to  the  scene  of  their  bivouac, 


A  MISHAP.  183 

they  proceeded  to  examine  my  holsters  and  the  flaps  of  rny 
saddle  for  any  papers  which  I  might  have  concealed  in 
these  places. 

"  Eh,  bien  !  raon  colonel,"  said  the  leader  of  the  party,  as 
he  drew  himself  up  before  me,  and  carried  his  hand  to  his 
cap  in  a  salute  as  respectful  and  orderly  as  though  I  were 
his  officer,  "  what  say  you  to  a  little  supper  ere  we  move 
forward  ?  " 

"  There  's  the  bill  of  fare,"  said  another,  laughing,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  remnant  of  roast  fowls  and  stewed  kid  that 
covered  the  grass. 

I  was  too  young  a  soldier  to  comport  myself  at  the  mo- 
ment with  that  philosophic  resignation  to  circumstances 
which  the  changeful  fortunes  of  war  so  forcibly  instil ; 
and  I  merely  answered  by  a  brief  refusal,  while  half  uncon- 
sciously I  threw  my  eyes  around  to  see  if  no  chance  of 
escape  presented  itself. 

••  Xo,  no,"  cried  the  corporal,  who  at  once  read  my  look 
and  its  meaning  ;  "don't  try  that,  or  you  reduce  me  to  the 
extremity  of  trying  this,"  patting,  as  he  spoke,  the  butt  of 
his  carbine  with  an  air  of  easy  determination  there  was  no 
mistaking. 

"  Let  me  rather  recommend  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  to  try 
this,"  said  the  Vivandiere,  who,  unperceived  by  me,  was  all 
this  while  grilling  the  half  of  apoulet  over  the  embers. 

There  was  something  in  the  kindness  of  the  act,  coupled  as 
it  was  with  an  air  of  graceful  courtesy,  that  touched  me  ;  so, 
smothering  all  my  regretful  thoughts  at  my  mishap,  I  sum- 
moned  up  my  best  bow  and  my  best  French  to  acknowledge 
the  civility,  and  the  moment  after  was  seated  on  the  grass 
beside  Mademoiselle  Annette,  discussing  my  supper  with 
the  appetite  of  a  man  whose  sorrows  were  far  inferior  to 
his  hunger. 

As  the  moon  rose,  the  party,  who  evidently  had  been 
waiting  for  some  others  they  expected,  made  preparations 
for  continuing  their  journey,  the  first  of  which  consisted  in 
changing  the  corporal's  pack  and  equipments  to  the  back  of 
my  English  thoroughbred,  his  own  meagre  and  rawboned 


184  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

quadruped  being  destined  for  me.  Up  to  this  instant  the 
thought  of  escape  had  never  left  my  mind.  I  knew  I  could 
calculate  on  the  speed  of  my  horse ;  I  had  had  some  trials 
of  his  endurance,  and  the  only  thing  was  to  obtain  such  a 
start  as  might  carry  me  out  of  bullet  range  at  once,  and  all 
was  safe.  Now  this  last  hope  deserted  me,  as  I  beheld  the 
miserable  hack  to  which  I  was  condemned ;  and  yet  poig- 
nant as  this  feeling  was  —  shall  I  confess  it  ?  —  it  was  in- 
ferior in  its  pain  to  the  sensation  I  experienced  as  I  saw 
the  rude  French  soldier,  with  clumsy  jack-boots  and  heavy 
hand,  curvetting  about  upon  my  mettlesome  charger,  and 
exhibiting  his  paces  for  the  amusement  of  his  companions. 

The  order  was  now  given  to  mount,  and  I  took  my  place  in 
the  middle  file,  —  the  dragoons  on  either  side  of  me  having 
unslung  their  carbines,  and  given  me  laughingly  to  under- 
stand that  I  was  to  be  made  a  riddle  of  if  I  attempted  an 
escape. 

The  long  months  of  captivity  that  followed  have,  some- 
how, I  cannot  at  all  explain  why,  left  no  such  deep  impres- 
sion on  my  mind  as  the  simple  events  of  that  night.  I 
remember  it  still  like  a  thing  of  yesterday.  We  travelled 
along  the  crest  of  a  mountain,  the  valley  lying  in  deep,  dark 
shadow  beneath ;  the  moon  shone  brightly  out  upon  the  gray 
granite  rocks  beside  us ;  our  pace  was  sometimes  pushed  to 
a  fast  trot,  and  then  relaxed  to  a  walk,  the  rather,  as  it 
appeared  to  me,  to  indulge  the  conversational  tastes  of 
my  escort  than  for  any  other  reason.  Their  spirits  never 
flagged  for  a  moment ;  some  jest  or  story  was  ever  going 
forward,  —  some  anecdote  of  the  campaign,  or  some  love- 
adventure,  of  which  the  narrator  was  the  hero,  commented 
on  by  all  in  turn  with  a  degree  of  sharp  wit  and  ready  re- 
partee that  greatly  surprised  me.  In  all  these  narratives 
Mademoiselle  played  a  prominent  part,  being  invariably 
referred  to  for  any  explanation  which  the  difficulties  of 
female  character  seemed  to  require,  her  opinion  on  such 
points  being  always  regarded  as  conclusive.  At  times,  too, 
they  would  break  forth  into  some  rude  hussar  song,  some 
regular   specimen  of  camp  lyric-poetry,  each  verse   being 


A   MISHAP.  185 

sung  by  a  different  individual,  and  chorussed  by  the  whole 
party  in  common.  I  have  said  that  these  trifling  details 
have  left  a  deep  impression  behind  them.  Stranger  still, 
one  of  those  wild  strains  haunts  my  memory  yet ;  and  strik- 
ingly illustrative  as  it  is,  not  only  of  those  songs  in  general 
but  of  that  peculiar  mixture  of  levity  and  pathos,  of  reck- 
less heartlessness  and  deep  feeling  so  eminently  French,  I 
cannot  help  giving  it  to  my  reader.  It  represents  the  last 
love-letter  of  a  soldier  to  his  mistress,  and  runs  thus :  — 

LE  DERNIER  ADIEU  DU  SOLDAT. 


Rose,  l'intention  d'  la  presente 
Est  de  t'  informer  d'  ma  same'. 
L'armee  francaise  est  triomphante, 
Et  moi  j'ai  V  bras  gauche  emporte. 
Nous  avons  eu  d'  grands  avantages  ; 
La  niitraille  m'a  brise  les  os, 
Nous  avons  pris  arm's  et  baggages ; 
Pour  ma  part  j'ai  deux  bals  dans  l'dos. 


J'  suis  a  I'hopital  d'oii  je  pense 

Partir  bientot  pour  chez  les  morts. 

J'  t'envois  dix  francs  qu'  celui  qui  me  panse 

Ma  donnes  pour  avoir  mon  corps. 

Je  me  suis  dit  puisq'il  faut  que  je  file, 

Et  que  ma  Rose  perd  son  epouseur, 

<Ja  fait  que  je  mourrai  plus  tranquille 

D'  savoir  que  j'  lui  laiss'  ma  valeur. 


Lorsque  j'ai  quitte  ma  vieill'  mere, 
Elle  s'expirant  sensiblement ; 
A  l'arrivee  d'  ma  lettre  j'espere 
Qu'ell'  sera  niorte  entierement; 
Car  si  la  pauvre  femme  est  gue'rite 
Elle  est  si  bonne  qu'elle  est  dans  le  ca» 
De  s'  faire  mourir  de  mort  subite 
A  la  nouvelle  de  mon  tre'pas. 


186  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 


Je  te  recommand'  bien,  ma  p'tit'  Rose, 
Mon  bon  chien ;  ne  rabandonn'  pas ; 
Surtout  ne  lui  dit  pas  la  chose 
Qui  fait  qu'il  ne  me  reverra  pas,  — 
Lui  qu'  je  suis  sur  se  fait  une  fete 
De  me  voir  rev'nir  caporai ; 
II  va  pleurer  comme  une  bete, 
En  apprenant  mon  sort  fatal. 


Quoiqu'  9a  c'est  quelqu'  chose  qui  m'enrage 

D'etre  fait  niourir  loin  du  pays,  — 

Au  moins  quand  on  meurt  au  village, 

On  peut  dire  bon  soir  aux  amis, 

On  a  sa  place  derriere  l'eglise 

On  a  son  nom  sur  un'  croix  de  bois, 

Et  puis  on  esper'  qu'  la  payse 

Viendra  pour  priere  quelque  fois. 


Adieu,  Rose  !  adieu  !  du  courage! 
A  nous  r'voir  il  n'  faut  plus  songer; 
Car  au  regiment  ou  je  m'engage 
On  ne  vous  accorde  pas  de  conge. 
Via  tout  qui  tourne  !  j'  n'y  vois  goutte! 
Ah,  c'est  fini !  j'  sens  que  j'  m'en  vas; 
J'  viens  de  recevoir  ma  feuill'  de  route ; 
Adieu!  Rose,  adieu!  n' m'oubli' pas. 

Fatigue  and  weariness,  that  seemed  never  to  weigh,  upon 
my  companions,  more  than  once  pressed  heavily  on  me.  As 
I  awoke  from  a  short  and  fitful  slumber  the  same  song  con- 
tinued ;  for  having  begun  it,  somehow  it  appeared  to  pos- 
sess such  a  charm  for  them  they  could  not  cease  singing, 

and  the 

"Adieu  !  Rose,  adieu!  n'  m'oubli'  pas," 

kept  ringing  through  my  ears  till  daybreak. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    MARCH. 

Such,  with  little  variety,  was  the  history  of  each  day  and 
night  of  our  march,  —  the  days  usually  passed  in  some  place 
of  security  and  concealment,  while  a  reconnoissance  would 
be  made  by  some  three  or  four  of  the  party  ;  and,  as  night 
fell,  the  route  was  continued. 

One  incident  alone  broke  the  monotony  of  the  journey. 
On  the  fourth  night  we  left  the  mountain  and  descended 
into  a  large  open  plain,  taking  for  our  guide  the  course  of  a 
river  which  seemed  familiar  to  my  companions.  The  night 
was  dark ;  heavy  masses  of  cloud  concealed  the  moon,  and 
not  a  star  was  visible ;  the  atmosphere  was  close  and  oppres- 
sive, and  there  reigned  around  a  kind  of  unnatural  stillness, 
unbroken  by  the  flow  of  the  sluggish  river  which  moved  on 
beside  us.  Our  pace  had  been  a  rapid  one  for  some  time  ; 
and  contrary  to  their  wont  the  dragoons  neither  indulged 
in  their  gay  songs  nor  merry  stories,  but  kept  together  with 
more  of  military  precision  than  they  had  hitherto  assumed. 
I  conjectured  from  this  that  we  were  probably  approaching 
the  French  lines  ;  and  on  questioning  the  corporal,  was  told 
that  such  was  the  case. 

A  little  after  midnight  we  halted  for  a  few  moments  to 
refresh  the  horses.  Each  man  dismounted,  and  stood  with 
his  hand  upon  the  bridle  ;  and  I  could  not  but  mark  how 
the  awful  silence  of  the  hour  seemed  to  prey  upon  their 
spirits  as  they  spoke  together  in  low  and  broken  whispers, 
as  if  fearful  to  interrupt  the  deep  sleep  of  Nature.  It  was 
just  then  that  every  eye  was  directed  to  a  bright  star  that 
burst  out  above  the  horizon,  and  seemed  to  expand  gradually 
into  a  large  mass  of  great  brilliancy,  and  again  to  diminish 


188  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

to  a  mere  speck,  —  which  it  remained  for  some  time,  and 
then  disappeared  entirely.  We  continued  gazing  on  the 
dark  spot  where  this  phenomenon  had  appeared,  endeavor- 
ing by  a  hundred  conjectures  to  explain  it.  Wearied  at 
length  with  watching,  we  were  about  to  continue  our  jour- 
ney, when  suddenly  from  the  quarter  from  where  the  star 
had  shone  a  rocket  shot  up  into  the  dark  sky  and  broke  into 
ten  thousand  brilliant  fragments,  which  seemed  to  hang 
suspended  on  high  in  the  weight  of  the  dense  atmosphere. 
Another  followed,  and  another ;  then,  after  a  pause  of 
some  minutes,  a  blue  rocket  was  seen  to  mount  into  the  air, 
and  explode  with  a  report  which  even  at  the  distance  we 
stood  was  audible.  Scarcely  had  its  last  fragments  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness  when  a  low  rumbling  noise,  like 
the  booming  of  distant  thunder,  seemed  to  creep  along  the 
ground.  Then  came  a  rattling  volley,  as  if  of  small  arms  ; 
and  at  last  the  whole  horizon  burst  into  a  red  glare,  which 
forked  up  from  earth  to  sky  with  a  crash  that  seemed  to 
shake  the  very  ground  beneath  us.  Masses  of  dark,  mis- 
shapen rock  sprang  into  the  blazing  sky ;  millions  upon 
millions  of  sparks  glittered  through  the  air ;  and  a  cry, 
like  the  last  expiring  wail  of  a  drowning  crew,  rose  above 
all  other  sounds,  — and  all  was  still.  The  flame  was  gone  ; 
the  gloomy  darkness  had  returned,  not  a  sound  was  heard ; 
but  in  that  brief  moment  four  hundred  of  the  French  army 
met  their  graves  beneath  the  castle  of  Burgos,  which  in 
their  hurried  retreat  they  had  blown  up,  without  appris- 
ing the  troops  who  were  actually  marching  beneath  its 
very  walls. 

Our  route  was  now  resumed  in  silence ;  even  the  levity 
of  the  French  soldiers  had  received  a  check ;  and  scarcely 
a  word  passed  as  we  rode  on  through  the  gloomy  darkness, 
anxiously  looking  for  daybreak,  to  learn  something  of  the 
country  about  us. 

Towards  sunrise  we  found  ourselves  at  the  entrance  of  a 
mountain  pass  traversed  by  the  Ebro,  Avhich  in  some  places 
almost  filled  the  valley,  and  left  merely  a  narrow  path  be- 
tween its  waters  and  the  dark  cliffs  that  frowned  above. 


THE   MARCH.  189 

Here  we  proceeded,  —  sometimes  in  single  file  ;  now  trac- 
ing the  signs  of  the  retreating  force  which  had  just  preceded 
us,  now  lost  in  astonishment  at  the  prodigious  strength  of 
the  position  thus  abandoned.  But  even  these  feelings  gave 
way  before  a  stronger  one,  —  our  admiration  of  the  exquisite 
beauty  of  the  scenery.  Glen  after  glen  was  seen  opening 
as  we  advanced  into  this  wide  valley,  each  bearing  its  tribu- 
tary stream  to  the  mighty  Ebro,  —  the  clear  waters  reflect- 
ing the  broken  crags,  the  waving  foliage,  and  the  bright 
verdure  that  beamed  around,  as  orange-trees,  laurels,  and 
olives  bent  over  the  current,  or  shot  up  in  taper  spires 
towards  the  clear  blue  sky.  How  many  a  sheltered  nook 
we  passed,  with  an  involuntary  longing  to  rest  and  linger 
among  scenes  so  full  of  romantic  beauty !  But  already  the 
din  of  the  retreating  column  was  borne  towards  us  on  the 
breeze,  the  heavy,  monotonous  roll  of  large  guns  and  cais- 
sons ;  while  now  and  then  we  thought  we  could  catch  the 
swell  of  martial  music  blending  through  the  other  sounds. 
But  soon  we  came  up  with  wagons  carrying  the  wounded 
and  sick,  who,  having  joined  by  another  road,  had  fallen  to 
the  rear  of  the  march.  From  them  we  learned  that  the 
King  of  Spain,  Joseph  himself,  was  with  the  advanced 
guard ;  and  that  the  destination  of  the  forces  was  Vittoria, 
where  a  junction  with  the  corps  d'armee  of  the  other  gen- 
erals being  effected,  it  was  decided  on  giving  battle  to  the 
Anglo-Spanish  army. 

As  we  advanced,  our  progress  became  slower  and  more 
difficult ;  close  columns  of  infantry  blocked  up  the  road,  or 
dense  masses  of  cavalry,  with  several  hundred  led-horses 
and  baggage  mules,  prevented  all  chance  of  getting  forward. 
Gradually,  however,  the  valley  widened,  the  mountain  be- 
came less  steep ;  and  by  evening  we  reached  a  large  plain, 
closed  towards  the  northeast  by  lofty  mountains,  which  I 
learned  were  the  Pyrenees,  and  beheld  in  the  far  distance 
the  tall  spires  of  the  city  of  Vittoria.  Several  roads 
crossed  the  plain  towards  the  city,  all  of  which  were  now 
crowded  with  troops,  —  some  pressing  on  in  the  direction 
of  the  town,  others  taking  up  their  position  and  throwing 


190  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

up  hasty  embankments  and  stockades.  Meanwhile  the 
loaded  wagons,  with  the  spoil  of  the  rich  convents  and  the 
royal  treasure,  were  seen  wending  their  slow  way  beneath 
the  walls  of  Vittoria  on  the  road  to  Bayonne,  escorted  by  a 
strong  cavalry  force,  whose  bright  helmets  and  breastplates 
pronounced  them  Cuirassiers  de  la  Garde.  The  animation 
and  excitement  of  the  whole  scene  was  truly  intense,  and  as 
I  rode  along  beside  the  corporal,  I  listened  with  eagerness 
to  his  account  of  the  various  regiments  as  they  passed 
hither  and  thither  and  took  up  their  positions  on  the  wide 
plain. 

"  There,  look  yonder,"  said  he,  "  where  that  dark  mass  is 
defiling  beside  the  pine-wood !  See  how  they  break  into 
parties ;  watch  them,  how  they  scatter  along  the  low  bank 
beside  the  stream  under  shelter  of  the  brushwood.  There 
were  eight  hundred  men  in  that  battalion  :  where  are  they 
now  ?  All  concealed,  —  they  are  the  tirailleurs  of  the 
army ;  and  see  on  that  low  mound  above  them  where  the 
flag  is  flying,  —  the  guns  are  about  to  occupy  that  height. 
I  was  right,  you  see  ;  there  they  come,  six,  seven,  eight 
pieces  of  heavy  metal.  Sacre  bleu  !  that  must  be  a  place 
of  some  consequence." 

"  What  are  the  troops  yonder  with  the  red  tufts  in  their 
caps,  and  scarlet  trousers  ?  " 

"  Ah, par  bleu!  your  countrymen  will  soon  know  to  their 
cost :  they  are  the  Infanterie  de  la  Garde.  There  's  not  a 
man  in  the  column  you  are  looking  at  who  is  not  decore"." 

"  Look  at  this  side,  Monsieur !  See  the  Chasseurs  a 
Cheval,"  said  Annette,  putting  her  hand  on  my  arm,  while 
her  bright  eyes  glanced  proudly  at  the  glittering  column 
which  advanced  by  a  road  near  us,  —  coming  along  at  a 
sharp  trot,  their  equipment  clattering,  their  horses  highly 
conditioned,  and  the  splendid  uniform  of  light-blue  and 
silver  giving  them  a  most  martial  air. 

"Bah!"  said  the  corporal,  contemptuously,  "these  are 
the  dragoons  to  my  taste ; "  so  saying,  he  pointed  to  a  dark 
column  of  heavy  cavalry,  who  led  their  horses  slowly  along 
by  a  narrow  causeway;    the  long  black  horse-hair  trailed 


THE   MARCH.  191 

from  their  dark  helmets  with  something  of  a  gloomy  as- 
pect, to  which  their  flowing  cloaks  of  deep-blue  added. 

"The  Quirassiers  de  Milhauds.  But  look — look  yonder! 
Tonnere  de  ciel!  see  that !  " 

The  object  to  which  my  attention  was  now  directed,  was 
a  park  of  artillery  that  covered  the  whole  line  of  road  from 
the  Miranda  pass  to  the  very  walls  of  Vittoria. 

"Two  hundred,  at  least,"  exclaimed  he,  after  counting 
some  twenty  or  thirty  of  the  foremost.  "  Ventre  bleu! 
what  chance  have  you  before  the  batteries  of  the  Guard  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  drums  beat  across  the  wide  plain ;  a  con- 
tinuous dull  roll  murmured  along  the  ground.  It  ceased ; 
the  trumpets  brayed  forth  a  call;  a  clanging  crash  fol- 
lowed, and  I  saw  that  the  muskets  were  brought  to  the 
shoulder,  as  the  bayonets  glanced  in  the  sun  and  the  sharp 
sabres  glittered  along  the  squadrons.  For  a  second  or  two 
all  was  still,  and  then  the  whole  air  was  rent  with  a  loud 
cry  of  Vive  le  Roi!  while  a  mounted  party  rode  slowly 
from  the  left,  and  entering  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city  dis- 
appeared from  our  sight.  Night  was  now  beginning  to  fall, 
as  we  wended  our  way  slowly  along  towards  the  walls  of 
Vittoria,  —  it  being  the  corporal's  intention  to  deliver  his 
prisoner  into  the  hands  of  the  etat  major  of  Marshal 
Jourdan. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

VITTORIA. 

What  a  contrast  to  the  scene  without  the  walls  did  the 
city  of  Vittoria  present !  Scarcely  had  we  left  behind  us 
the  measured  tread  of  moving  battalions,  the  dark  columns  of 
winding  cavalry,  when  we  entered  streets  brilliantly  lighted. 
Gorgeous  and  showy  equipages  turned  everywhere  ;  music 
resounded  on  all  sides ;  servants  in  splendid  liveries  made 
way  for  ladies  in  all  the  elegance  of  evening  dress,  enjoy- 
ing the  delicious  coolness  of  a  southern  climate  at  sunset ; 
groups  of  officers  in  full  uniform  chatted  with  their  fair 
friends  from  the  balconies  of  the  large  majestic  houses ; 
the  sounds  of  gayety  and  mirth  were  heard  from  every 
open  lattice,  and  the  chink  of  the  castanet  and  the  proud 
step  of  the  fandango  echoed  around  us. 

"Women,  dressed  in  all  the  perfection  of  Parisian  co- 
quetry, loitered  along  the  streets,  wondering  at  the  strange 
sights  the  Spanish  city  afforded,  — themselves  scarcely  less 
objects  of  wonder  to  the  dark-eyed  senoras,  who,  with 
close-drawn  mantillas,  peered  cautiously  around  them  to  see 
the  strangers.  Young  French  officers  swaggered  boastfully 
about  with  the  air  of  conquerors,  while  now  and  then  some 
tall  and  swarthy  Spaniard  might  be  seen  lowering  with 
gloomy  frown  from  under  the  broad  shadow  of  his  som- 
brero, as  if  doubting  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses  at 
seeing  his  native  city  in  the  occupation  of  the  usurper. 

In  the  open  plazas,  too,  the  soldiers  were  picquetted,  and 
stood  in  parties  around  their  fires,  or  lay  stretched  on  the 
rich  tapestries  they  had  carried  away  as  spoils  from  the 
southern  provinces.  Cups  and  goblets  of  the  rarest  handi- 
work and  of  the  most  costly  materials  were  strewn  about 


VITTORIA.  193 

them.  The  vessels  of  the  churches  ;  the  rich  cloths  of  gold 
embroidery  that  had  decorated  the  altars  ;  pictures,  the 
ehef-d'oeuvres  of  the  first  masters,  —  all  were  there,  in  one 
confused  heap,  among  baskets  of  fruit,  wine-skins,  ancient 
armor,  and  modern  weapons.  From  time  to  time  some 
brilliant  staff  would  pass,  usually  accompanied  by  ladies, 
who  seemed  strangely  mixed  up  with  all  the  military 
display  of  the  scene. 

My  guide,  after  conversing  for  a  few  moments  with  a  sous- 
officier  of  his  regiment,  turned  from  the  plaza  into  a  narrow 
street,  the  termination  to  which  was  formed  by  a  large 
building  now  brilliantly  lit  up.  As  we  approached,  I  per- 
ceived that  two  sentries  were  on  guard  at  the  narrow  gate, 
and  a  large  banner,  with  the  imperial  "  N  "  in  the  centre, 
waved  heavily  over  the  entrance.  "This  is  le  quartier 
general"  said  the  corporal,  dropping  his  voice  respectfully, 
as  we  drew  near.  At  the  same  instant  a  young  officer, 
whose  long  plume  bespoke  him  as  an  aide-de-camp,  pushed 
past  us  ;  but  turning  hastily  round  said  something  I  could 
not  catch,  to  the  corporal.  "  Bien,  mon  lieutenant,"  said 
the  latter,  carrying  his  hand  to  his  shako.  "Follow  me, 
Monsieur,"  said  the  officer,  addressing  me,  and  the  next 
moment  I  found  myself  in  a  large  and  richly  furnished 
room,  when  having  motioned  me  to  be  seated,  he  left  me. 

My  meditations,  such  as  they  were,  were  not  suffered  to 
be  long,  for  in  a  few  seconds  the  aide-de-camp  made  his 
appearance,  and  with  a  low  bow  requested  me  to  accom- 
pany him. 

"  The  general  will  receive  you  at  once,"  said  he. 

I  eagerly  asked  his  name. 

"  Le  General  Oudinot." 

"Ah,  the  Marshal?" 

"No;  his  brother.  I  perceive  you  are  a  young  soldier; 
so  let  me  give  you  a  hint.  Don't  mind  his  manner ;  '  c'est 
un  brave  homrae'  at  bottom,  but  — "  the  loud  burst  of 
laughter  from  a  room  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  drowned 
the  conclusion  of  his  speech,  and  before  I  had  time  for 
another  question  the  door  opened,  and  I  was  introduced. 

VOL.  II.  —  13 


194  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

In  a  small  but  richly  furnished  chamber  sat  four  officers 
round  a  table  covered  with  a  magnificent  display  of  silver 
cups  and  plate,  and  upon  which  a  dessert  was  spread,  with 
flasks  of  French  and  Spanish  wine,  and  a  salver  holding 
cigars ;  a  book,  apparently  an  orderly  book,  was  before 
them,  from  which  one  of  the  party  was  reading  as  I  came 
in.  As  the  aide-de-camp  announced  me  they  all  looked  up, 
and  the  general,  for  I  knew  him  at  once,  fixing  his  eyes 
steadily  on  me,  desired  me  to  approach. 

As  I  obeyed  his  not  very  courteous  order,  I  had  time  to 
perceive  that  the  figure  before  me  was  that  of  a  stout, 
square-built  man  of  about  fifty-five  or  sixty.  His  head  was 
bald ;  his  eyebrows,  of  a  bushy  gray,  were  large  and  meet- 
ing. A  mustache  of  the  same  grizzly  appearance  shaded 
his  lip,  and  served  to  conceal  two  projectiug  teeth,  which, 
when  he  spoke,  displayed  themselves  like  boar's  tusks, 
giving  a  peculiarly  savage  expression  to  his  dark  and 
swarthy  countenance.  The  loose  sleeve  of  his  coat  denoted 
that  he  had  lost  his  left  arm  high  up ;  but  whenever  ex- 
cited, I  could  see  that  the  short  stump  of  the  amputated 
limb  jerked  convulsively  in  a  manner  it  was  painful  to 
look  at. 

"  What,  a  deserter !  a  spy  !     Eh,  what  is  it,  Alphonse  ?  " 

The  aide-de-camp,  blushing,  whispered  some  few  words 
rapidly,  and  the  general  resumed,  — 

'  "  Ha !  Be  seated,  Monsieur.  The  officers  of  the  impe- 
rial army  know  how  to  treat  their  prisoners  ;  though,  par 
Dieu,  they  can't  teach  their  enemies  the  lesson  !  You  have 
floating  prisons,  they  tell  me,  in  England,  where  my  poor 
countrymen  die  of  disease  and  starvation.  Sacre  Dieu/ 
what  cruelty  ! " 

"You  have  been  misinformed,  General.  The  nation  I 
belong  to  is  uniformly  humane  to  all  whom  chance  of  war 
has  made  its  prisoners,  and  never  forgets  that  the  officers 
of  an  army  are  gentlemen." 

"  Ha !  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  he,  becoming  dark 
with  passion,  as  he  half  rose  from  his  seat ;  then,  stopping 
suddenly   short,   he   continued   in   a   voice   of   suppressed 


VITTORIA.  1^5 

anger,  "  Where  are  your  troops  ?  What  number  of  men 
has  your  Villainton  got  with  him  ? " 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  smiling,  "  you  do  not  expect  me  to 
answer  snch  questions." 

"  Do  you  refuse  it  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"I  do  distinctly  refuse,"  was  my  answer. 

"  What  rank  do  you  hold  in  your  service  ?  " 

"  I  am  but  a  subaltern." 

"  Tenez,"  said  another  of  the  party,  who  for  some  time 
past  had  been  leisurely  conning  over  the  despatches  which 
had  been  taken  from  me,  "  You  are  called  '  capitaine '  here, 
Monsieur." 

"  Ha !  ha  !  What  say  you  to  that  ?  "  cried  the  general, 
exultingly.     "  Head  it,  Chamont." 

" '  The  despatches  which  Captain  Airey  will  deliver  — ' 
Is  it  not  so  ?  "  said  he,  handing  me  the  paper. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  coolly ;  "  he  is  the  senior  aide-de-camp ; 
but  being  employed  in  General  Graham's  staff,  now  occu- 
pied in  the  pursuit  of  your  army —  " 

"  Mille  tonneres  !  Young  man,  you  have  chosen  an  un- 
suitable place  to  cut  your  jokes  !  " 

"Sa  Majeste  le  Roi,"  said  an  aide-de-camp,  entering  has- 
tily, and  throwing  the  door  open  to  its  full  extent ;  and 
scarcely  had  the  party  time  to  rise  when  the  Emperor's 
brother  appeared. 

Of  the  middle  size,  pale,  and  with  a  thoughtful,  expres- 
sive countenance,  Joseph  Bonaparte's  appearance  was  much 
in  his  favor.  His  forehead  was  lofty  and  expansive,  his 
eye  large  and  full,  and  the  sweet  smile  which  seemed  the 
gift  of  every  member  of  the  family  he  possessed  in  perfec- 
tion. After  a  few  words  with  General  Oudinot,  whose  rough 
manner  and  coarse  bearing  suffered  no  change  by  his  pres- 
ence, he  turned  towards  me,  and  with  much  mildness  of 
voice  and  courtesy  of  demeanor  inquired  if  I  were  wounded. 
On  hearing  that  I  was  not,  he  expressed  a  hope  that  my 
captivity  would  be  of  brief  duration,  as  exchanges  were 
already  in  progress.  "  Meanwhile,"  said  he,  "  you  shall 
have  as  little  to  complain  of  as  possible." 


196  JACK   HINTON,  THE  GUAKDSMAN. 

As  he  concluded  these  few  but  to  me  most  comforting 
words,  I  received  a  hint  from  the  aide-de-camp  to  with- 
draw, which  I  did,  into  an  adjoining  room.  The  same 
aide-de-camp  by  whom  I  had  hitherto  been  accompanied 
now  joined  me,  and,  slapping  me  familiarly  on  the  shoul- 
der, cried  out,  — 

"  Eh,  bien  !  I  hope  now  you  are  satisfied.  Joseph  is  a 
fine,  generous  fellow,  and  will  take  care  not  to  forget  his 
promise  to  you.  Meanwhile,  come  and  take  a  share  of  my 
supper." 

He  opened  a  door  in  the  wainscot  as  he  spoke,  and  intro- 
duced me  into  a  perfectly  fitted  up  little  boudoir,  where  a 
supper  had  been  laid  out  for  him.  Another  cover  was  soon 
provided  for  me,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  seated  at 
table,  chatting  away  about  the  war  and  the  opposing  armies, 
as  though  instead  of  partisans  we  had  merely  been  lookers- 
on  at  the  great  game  before  us.  My  companion,  though  but 
a  year  or  two  older  than  myself,  held  the  grade  of  colonel, 
every  step  to  which  he  won  at  the  point  of  his  sword ;  he 
was  strikingly  handsome,  and  his  figure,  though  slight, 
powerfully  knit.  As  the  champagne  passed  back  and  for- 
ward between  us,  confidences  became  interchanged,  and  be- 
fore midnight  sounded  I  found  my  companion  quite  familiar 
with  the  name  of  Louisa  Bellew,  while  to  my  equal  aston- 
ishment I  was  on  terms  of  perfect  intimacy  with  a  certain 
lovely  marquise  of  the  Chaussee  d'Antin.  The  tinkle  of  a 
sharp  bell  suddenly  called  the  aide-de-camp  to  his  legs ;  so 
drinking  off  a  large  goblet  of  cold  water,  and  taking  up  his 
chapeau,  he  left  the  room. 

I  now  threw  myself  back  into  my  chair,  and  tossing  off  a 
bumper  of  champagne  began  to  reason  myself  into  the  be- 
lief that  there  were  worse  things  even  than  imprisonment 
among  the  French.  Flitting  thoughts  of  the  past,  vague 
dreams  of  the  future,  confused  images  of  the  present,  were 
all  dancing  through  my  brain,  when  the  door  again  opened, 
and  I  heard  my  companion's  footsteps  behind  me. 

"  Do  you  know,  Alphonse,"  said  I,  without  turning  in 
my  chair,  "  I  have  been  seriously  thinking  of  making  my 


VITTOKIA.  197 

escape  ?  It  is  quite  clear  that  a  battle  is  not  far  off ;  and, 
by  Jove !  if  I  only  have  the  good  fortune  to  meet  with  your 
chef  d'etat  major,  that  savage  old  Oudinot,  I'll  pledge  my- 
self to  clear  off  scores  with  him." 

A  half  chuckle  of  laughter  behind,  induced  me  to 
continue :  — 

"  That  old  fellow  certainly  must  have  risen  from  the 
ranks,  —  not  a  touch  of  breeding  about  him.  I  'in  certain 
his  Majesty  rated  him  soundly  for  his  treatment  of  me, 
when  I  came  away.  I  saw  his  old  mustachios  bristling  up ; 
he  knew  he  was  in  for  it." 

A  louder  laugh  than  the  first,  but  in  somewhat  of  a  differ- 
ent cadence,  induced  me  to  turn  my  head,  when  what  was 
my  horror  to  see  before  me,  not  my  new  friend  the  aide- 
de-camp,  but  General  Oudinot  himself,  who  all  this  time  had 
been  listening  to  my  polite  intentions  regarding  his  future 
welfare !  There  was  a  savage  exultation  in  his  look  as  his 
eye  met  mine,  and  for  a  second  or  two  he  seemed  to  enjoy 
my  confusion  too  much  to  permit  him  to  break  silence.  At 
last,  he  said,  — 

"  Are  you  on  parole,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  briefly  replied,  "  nor  shall  I  be." 

"  What,  have  I  heard  you  aright  ?  Do  you  refuse  your 
parole  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  shall  not  pledge  myself  against  attempting  my 
escape  the  very  first  opportunity  that  offers." 

"  Indeed,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  indeed !  What  is  to  become 
of  poor  General  Oudinot  if  such  a  casualty  take  place  ?  But 
come,  sir,  I  have  his  Majesty's  orders  to  accept  your  parole ; 
if  you  refuse  it,  you  are  then  at  my  disposal.  I  have  re- 
ceived no  other  instructions  about  you.  Yes  or  no,  —  I  ask 
you  for  the  last  time." 

"No!  distinctly  no!" 

"  C'est  bien  ;  holla,  garde  !  numero  dix  et  onze." 

Two  soldiers  of  the  grenadiers,  with  fixed  bayonets,  ap- 
peared at  the  door ;  a  few  hurried  words  were  spoken,  the 
only  part  of  which  I  could  catch  was  the  word  cachot.     I 


198  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

was  at  once  ordered  to  rise  ;  a  soldier  walked  on  either  side 
of  me,  and  I  was  in  this  way  conducted  through  the  city  to 
the  prison  of  the  gendarmerie,  where  for  the  night  I  was 
to  remain,  with  orders  to  forward  me  the  next  morning 
at  daybreak,  with  some  Spanish  prisoners,  on  the  road  to 
Bayonne. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    RETREAT. 

My  cell,  for  such  it  was,  although  dignified  with  the  ap- 
pellation of  chamber,  looked  out  by  a  small  window  upon  a 
narrow  street,  the  opposite  side  to  which  was  formed  by 
the  wall  of  a  churchyard  pertaining  to  a  convent.  As  day 
broke,  I  eagerly  took  my  place  at  the  casement  to  watch 
what  was  going  on  without ;  but  except  some  bare-headed 
figure  of  a  monk  gliding  along  between  the  dark  yew 
avenues,  or  some  female  in  deep  mourning  passing  to  her 
morning's  devotions  beside  the  grave  of  a  relative,  I  could 
see  nothing.  A  deep  silence  seemed  to  brood  over  the  city, 
so  lately  the  scene  of  festivity  and  mirth.  Towards  four 
o'clock,  however,  I  could  hear  the  distant  roll  of  drums, 
which  gradually  extended  from  the  extreme  right  to  the 
left  of  the  plain  before  the  town ;  then  I  heard  the  heavy 
monotonous  tramp  of  marching,  broken  occasionally  by  the 
clank  of  the  brass  bands  of  the  cavalry,  or  the  deep  sullen 
thunder  of  the  artillery  wagons  as  they  moved  along  over 
the  paved  roads.  The  sounds  came  gradually  nearer ;  the 
trumpets  too  joined  the  clamor  with  the  shrill  reveille,  and 
soon  the  streets  towards  the  front  of  the  prison  re-echoed 
with  the  unceasing  clatter  of  troops  moving  forward.  I 
could  hear  the  voices  of  the  officers  calling  to  the  men  to 
move  up ;  heard  more  than  once  the  names  of  particular 
regiments,  as  some  distinguished  corps  were  passing.  The 
music  of  the  bands  was  quick  and  inspiriting ;  and  as  some 
popular  air  Avas  struck  up,  the  men  would  break  forth  sud- 
denly into  the  words,  and  the  rough-voiced  chorus  rang 
through  the  narrow  streets,  and  fell  heavily  on  my  own 
heart  as  I  lay  there  a  prisoner.     Hour  after  hour  did  this 


200  JACK    HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

continue,  yet  the  silence  behind  remained  as  unbroken  as 
ever ;  the  lonely  churchyard,  with  its  dark  walks  and  sad- 
looking  trees,  was  still  and  deserted.  By  degrees  the  din 
in  front  diminished ;  regiments  passed  now  only  at  inter- 
vals, and  their  pace  increased  to  a  run  left  no  time  for  the 
bands ;  the  cavalry  too  trotted  rapidly  by,  and  at  last  all 
was  still  as  in  the  gloomy  street  before  me. 

It  was  now  eight  o'clock,  and  no  summons  had  yet  come 
to  me,  although  I  had  heard  myself  the  order  for  our  march- 
ing on  the  Bayonne  road  by  sunrise.  The  prison  was  still 
as  the  grave ;  not  a  step  could  I  hear ;  not  a  bolt  nor  a 
hinge  creaked.  I  looked  to  the  window,  but  the  strong  iron 
grating  that  defended  it  left  no  prospect  of  escape ;  the 
door  was  even  stronger,  and  there  was  no  chimney.  The 
thought  occurred  to  me  that  the  party  had  forgotten  me, 
and  had  gone  away  with  the  other  prisoners.  This  thought 
somehow  had  its  consolation ;  but  the  notion  of  being  left 
to  starve  came  suddenly  across  me,  and  I  hastened  to  the 
window  to  try  and  make  myself  known  to  some  chance 
passer-by. 

Just  then  the  loud  boom  of  a  gun  struck  upon  my  ear ; 
another  followed,  louder  still ;  and  then  a  long  heavy  crash- 
ing noise,  which  rose  and  fell  as  the  wind  bore  it,  told  me 
that  the  work  of  death  had  begun.  The  sound  of  the  large 
guns,  which  at  first  came  only  at  intervals,  now  swelled 
into  one  loud  continuous  roar,  that  drowned  all  other  noise. 
The  strong  frames  of  the  windows  shook,  and  the  very 
ground  beneath  my  feet  seemed  to  tremble  with  the  dread- 
ful concussion  of  the  artillery ;  sometimes  the  din  would 
die  away  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then,  as  the  wind  freshened, 
it  would  swell  into  a  thunder  so  loud  as  to  make  me  think 
the  battle  was  close  to  where  I  stood.  Hour  after  hour  did 
this  continue ;  and  now,  although  the  little  street  beside 
me  was  thronged  with  many  an  anxious  group,  I  no  longer 
thought  of  questioning  them.  My  whole  soul  was  wrapped 
up  in  the  one  thought,  — that  of  the  dreadful  engagement; 
and  as  I  listened,  my  mind  was  carrying  on  with  itself 
some  fancied  picture  of  the  fight,  with  no  othsr  guide  to  my 


THE   RETREAT.  201 

imaginings  than  the  distant  clangor  of  the  battle.  Now  I 
thought  that  the  French  were  advancing,  that  their  battery 
of  guns  had  opened ;  and  I  could  imagine  the  dark  mass 
that  move'd  on,  their  tall  shakos  and  black  belts  peering 
amidst  the  smoke  that  lay  densely  in  the  field.  On  they 
poured,  thousand  after  thousand;  ay,  there  goes  the  fusi- 
lade,  —  the  platoons  are  firing.  But  now  they  halt;  the 
crash  of  fixing  bayonets  is  heard ;  a  cheer  breaks  forth ; 
the  cloud  is  rent ;  the  thick  smoke  is  severed  as  if  by  a 
lightning  flash ;  the  red-coats  have  dashed  through  at  the 
charge ;  the  enemy  waits  not ;  the  line  wavers  and  breaks  j 
down  come  the  cavalry,  like  an  eagle  on  the  swoop !  But 
again  the  dread  artillery  opens  ;  the  French  form  beneath 
the  lines,  and  the  fight  is  renewed. 

The  fever  of  my  mind  was  at  its  height ;  I  paced  my 
room  with  hurried  steps,  and  springing  to  the  narrow  case- 
ment, held  my  ear  to  the  wall  to  listen.  Forgetting  where 
I  was,  I  called  out  as  though  at  the  head  of  my  company, 
with  the  wild  yell  of  the  battle  around  me,  and  the  foe 
before  me. 

Suddenly  the  crowd  beneath  the  window  broke ;  the 
crash  of  cavalry  equipments  resounded  through  the  street, 
and  the  head  of  a  squadron  of  cuirassiers  came  up  at  a  trot, 
followed  by  a  train  of  baggage-wagons,  with  six  horses  to 
each  ;  the  drivers  whipped  and  spurred  their  cattle,  and  all 
betokened  haste.  From  the  strength  of  the  guard  and  the 
appearance  of  the  wagons,  I  conjectured  that  they  were 
the  treasures  of  the  army,  —  an  opinion  in  which  I  was 
strengthened  by  the  word  "  Bayonne "  chalked  in  large 
letters  on  a  chest  thrown  on  the  top  of  a  carriage.  Some 
open  wagons  followed,  in  which  the  invalids  of  the  army 
lay ;  a  pale  and  sickly  mass,  their  lack-lustre  eyes  gazed 
heavily  around  with  a  stupid  wonder,  like  men  musing  in  a 
dream.  Even  they,  however,  had  arms  given  them,  such 
was  the  dread  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  guerilla 
bands  who  infested  the  mountain  passes,  and  who  never 
gave  quarter  even  to  the  wounded  and  the  dying. 

The  long  file  at  length  passed,  but  only  to  make  way  for 


202  JACK  BUTTON,  THE     GUARDSMAN. 

a  still  longer  procession  of  Spanish  prisoners,  who,  bound 
wrist  to  wrist,  marched  between  two  files  of  mounted  gen- 
darmes. The  greater  number  of  these  were  mountaineers, 
guerillas  of  the  south,  condemned  to  the  galleys  for  life, 
their  bronzed  faces  and  stalwart  figures  a  striking  contrast 
to  their  pale  and  emaciated  companions,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  towns,  who  could  scarce  drag  their  weary  limbs  along, 
and  seemed  at  every  step  ready  to  sink  between  misery  and 
privation.  The  ribald  jests  and  coarse  language  of  the 
soldiers  were  always  addressed  to  these,  there  seeming  to 
be  a  kind  of  respect  for  the  bolder  guerillas  even  in  the 
hour  of  their  captivity.  The  tramp  of  led-horses,  the  roll 
of  wagons,  the  cracking  of  whips,  mingled  with  the  oaths 
of  muleteers  and  the  fainter  cries  of  the  sick,  now  filled 
the  air,  and  only  occasionally  did  the  loud  cannonade  rise 
above  them.  From  every  window  faces  appeared,  turned 
with  excited  eagerness  towards  the  dense  crowds ;  and 
though  I  could  perceive  that  inquiries  as  to  the  fate  of  the 
day  were  constantly  made  and  answered,  my  ignorance  of 
Spanish  prevented  my  understanding  what  was  said. 

The  noise  in  front  of  the  prison,  where  the  thorough- 
fare was  wider  and  larger,  far  exceeded  that  around  me ; 
and  at  last  I  could  hear  the  steps  of  persons  marching 
overhead,  and  ascending  and  descending  the  stairs.  Doors 
clapped  and  slammed  on  every  side ;  when,  suddenly,  the 
door  of  my  own  cell  was  shaken  violently,  and  a  voice  cried 
out  in  French,  "  Try  this ;  I  passed  twice  without  perceiv- 
ing it."  The  next  moment  the  lock  turned,  and  my  room 
was  filled  with  dragoons,  their  uniforms  splashed  and  dirty, 
and  evidently  bearing  the  marks  of  a  long  and  severe 
march. 

"Are  you  the  Guerilla  Guiposcoa  de  Condeiga  ?  "  said 
one  of  the  party,  accosting  me,  as  I  stood  wrapped  up  in 
my  cloak. 

"  No ;  I  am  an  English  officer." 

"Show  your  epaulettes,  then,"  said  another,  who  knew 
that  Spanish  officers  never  wore  such. 

I  opened  my  cloak,  when  the  sight  of  my  red  uniform  at 


THE   RETREAT.  203 

once  satisfied  them.  At  this  instant  a  clamor  of  voices 
without  was  heard,  and  several  persons  called  out,  "  We 
have  hiin !  here  he  is  !  "  The  crowd  around  me  rushed 
forth  at  the  sound ;  and  following  among  them  I  reached 
the  street,  now  jammed  up  with  horse-and-foot,  wagons, 
tumbrils,  and  caissons,  —  some  endeavoring  to  hasten  for- 
ward towards  the  road  to  Bayonne ;  others  as  eagerly 
turned  towards  the  plain  of  Vittoria,  where  the  deafening 
roll  of  artillery  showed  the  fight  was  at  its  fiercest.  The 
dragoons  issued  forth,  dragging  a  man  amongst  them  whose 
enormous  stature  and  broad  chest  towered  above  the  others, 
but  who  apparently  made  not  the  slightest  resistance  as 
they  hurried  him  forward,  shouting,  as  they  went,  "  A  la 
grand  place  !  —  a  la  place ! " 

It  was  the  celebrated  Guerilla  Guiposcoa,  who  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  acts  of  heroic  daring,  and  sometimes 
by  savage  cruelty  towards  the  French,  and  who  had  fallen 
into  their  hands  that  morning.  Anxious  to  catch  a  glance 
at  one  of  whom  I  had  heard  so  often,  I  pressed  forward 
among  the  rest,  and  soon  found  myself  in  the  motley 
crowd  of  soldiers  and  towns-people  that  hurried  towards 
the  Plaza. 

Scarcely  had  I  entered  the  square  when  the  movement  of 
the  multitude  was  arrested,  and  a  low  whispering  murmur 
succeeded  to  the  deafening  shouts  of  vengeance  and  loud 
cries  of  death  I  had  heard  before ;  thon  came  the  deep 
roll  of  a  muffled  drum.  I  made  a  strong  effort  to  press 
forward,  and  at  length  reached  the  rear  of  a  line  of  dis- 
mounted dragoons  who  stood  leaning  on  their  carbines, 
their  eyes  steadily  bent  on  a  figure  some  twenty  paces  in 
front.  He  was  leisurely  employed  in  divesting  himself  of 
some  of  his  clothes,  which,  as  he  took  off,  he  piled  in  a 
little  heap  beside  him;  his  broad  guerilla  hat,  his  dark 
cloak,  his  sheep's-wool  jacket  slashed  with  gold,  fell  one 
by  one  from  his  hand,  and  his  broad  manly  chest  at  last 
lay  bare,  heaving  with  manifest  pride  and  emotion,  as  he 
turned  his  dark  eyes  calmly  around  him.  Nothing  was 
now  heard  in  that  vast  crowd  save  when  some  low,  broken 


204  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

sob  of  grief  would  burst  from  the  close-drawn  mantillas  of 
the  women,  as  they  offered  up  their  heartfelt  prayers  for 
the  soul  of  the  patriot. 

A  low  parapet  wall,  surmounted  by  an  iron  railing, 
closed  in  this  part  of  the  Plaza,  and  separated  it  from  a 
deep  and  rapid  river  that  flowed  beneath,  —  a  branch  of  the 
Ebro.  Beyond,  the  wide  plain  of  Vittoria  stretched  away 
towards  the  Pyrenees ;  and  two  leagues  distant  the  scene 
of  the  battle  was  discernible,  from  the  heavy  mass  of  cloud 
that  lowered  overhead,  and  the  deep  booming  of  the  guns 
that  seemed  to  make  the  air  tremulous. 

The  Spaniard  turned  his  calm  look  towards  the  battle- 
field, and  for  an  instant  his  dark  eye  flashed  back  upon 
his  foes  with  an  expression  of  triumphant  daring,  which 
seemed  as  it  were  to  say,  "  I  am  avenged  already  !  "  A  cry 
of  impatience  burst  from  the  crowd  of  soldiers,  and  the 
crash  of  their  firelocks  threatened  that  they  would  not  wait 
longer  for  his  blood.  But  the  guerilla's  manner  changed  at 
once,  and  holding  up  a  small  ebony  crucifix  before  him,  he 
seemed  to  ask  a  moment's  respite  for  a  short  prayer. 

The  stillness  showed  his  request  was  complied  with ;  he 
turned  his  back  towards  the  crowd,  and  placing  the  crucifix 
on  the  low  parapet,  he  bent  down  on  both  his  knees,  and 
seemed  lost  in  his  devotions.  As  he  rose  I  thought  I  could 
perceive  that  he  threw  a  glance,  rapid  as  lightning,  over  the 
wall  towards  the  river  that  flowed  beneath.  He  now  turned 
fully  round ;  and  unfastening  the  girdle  of  many  a  gay  color 
that  he  wore  round  his  waist,  he  threw  it  carelessly  on  his 
left  arm  ;  and  then,  baring  his  breast  to  the  full,  knelt 
slowly  down,  and  with  his  arms  wide  apart  called  out  in 
Spanish,  "  Here  is  my  life  !  come,  take  it !  "  The  words 
were  scarcely  uttered,  when  the  carbines  clanked  as  they 
brought  them  to  the  shoulder ;  the  sergeant  of  the  company 
called  out  the  words,  "  Donnez  ! "  a  pause,  —  "  Feu ! "  The 
fusilade  rang  out,  and  as  my  eyes  pierced  the  smoke  I  could 
see  that  the  guerilla  had  fallen  to  the  earth,  his  arms  crossed 
upon  his  bosom. 

A  shriek  wild  and  terrific  burst  from  the  crowd.     The 


THE   RETREAT.  205 

blue  smoke  slowly  rose,  and  I  perceived  the  French  sergeant 
standing  over  the  body  of  the  guerilla,  which  lay  covered 
with  blood  upon  the  turf.  A  kind  of  convulsive  spasm 
seemed  to  twitch  the  limbs,  upon  which  the  Frenchman 
drew  his  sabre.  The  rattle  of  the  steel  scabbard  rang 
through  my  heart;  the  bright  weapon  glanced  as  he  raised 
it  above  his  head.  At  the  same  instant  the  guerilla  chief 
sprang  to  his  legs  ;  he  tottered  as  he  did  so,  for  I  could 
see  that  his  left  arm  hung  powerless  at  his  side,  but  his 
right  held  a  long  poinard.  He  threw  himself  upon  the 
Frenchman's  bosom ;  a  yell  followed,  and  the  same  mo- 
ment the  guerilla  sprang  over  the  battlements,  and  with  a 
loud  splash  dropped  into  the  river  beneath.  The  water  had 
scarce  covered  his  body,  as  the  Frenchman  fell  a  corpse 
upon  the  ground. 

A  perfect  roar  of  madness  and  rage  burst  from  the  French 
soldiers,  as,  rushing  to  the  parapet,  a  hundred  balls  swept 
the  surface  of  the  river ;  but  the  tall  reeds  of  the  bank  had 
already  concealed  the  bold  guerilla,  whose  left  arm  had  re- 
ceived the  fire  of  the  soldiers,  who  now  saw  the  meaning  of 
that  quick  movement  by  which  he  had  thrown  his  girdle 
around  it.  The  incident  was  but  the  work  of  a  few  brief 
moments ;  nor  was  there  longer  time  to  think  on  it,  for 
suddenly  a  squadron  of  cavalry  swept  past  at  the  full  speed 
of  their  horses,  calling  out  the  words,  "Place  there!  Make 
way  there  in  front !     The  ambulance  !  the  ambulance  ! " 

A  low  groan  of  horror  rose  around ;  the  quick  retreat  of 
the  wounded  betokened  that  the  battle  was  going  against 
the  French ;  the  words  "  beaten  and  retreat "  re-echoed 
through  the  crowd ;  and  as  the  dark  suspicion  crept  amid 
the  moving  mass,  the  first  wagon  of  the  wounded  slowly 
turned  the  angle  of  the  square,  a  white  flag  hanging  above 
it.  I  caught  but  one  glance  of  the  sad  convoy ;  but  never 
shall  I  forget  that  spectacle  of  blood  and  agony.  Torn 
and  mangled,  they  lay  an  indiscriminate  heap;  their  faces 
blackened  with  powder,  their  bodies  shattered  with  wounds. 
High  above  the  other  sounds  their  piercing  cries  rent  the 
air,  with  mingled  blasphemies  and  insane  ravings.     Mean- 


206  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

while  the  drivers  seemed  only  anxious  to  get  forward,  as 
deaf  to  every  prayer  and  entreaty  they  whipped  their  horses 
and  called  out  to  the  crowd  to  make  way. 

Escape  was  now  open ;  but  where  could  I  go  ?  My  uni- 
form exposed  me  to  immediate  detection ;  should  I  endeavor 
to  conceal  myself,  discovery  would  be  my  death.  The  vast 
tide  of  people  that  poured  along  the  streets  was  a  current 
too  strong  to  stem,  and  I  hesitated  what  course  to  follow. 
My  doubts  were  soon  resolved  for  me ;  an  officer  of  General 
Oudinot's  staff,  who  had  seen  me  the  previous  night,  rode 
up  close  to  where  I  stood,  and  then  turning  to  his  orderly, 
spoke  a  few  hurried  words.  The  moment  after,  two  heavy 
dragoons,  in  green  uniform  and  brass  helmets,  came  up,  one 
at  either  side  of  me  ;  without  a  second's  delay  one  of  them 
unfastened  a  coil  of  small  rope  that  hung  at  his  saddle-bow, 
which  with  the  assistance  of  the  other  was  passed  over  my 
right  wrist  and  drawn  tight.  In  this  way,  secured  like  a 
malefactor,  I  was  ordered  forward.  In  vain  I  remonstrated; 
in  vain  I  told  them  I  was  a  British  officer ;  to  no  purpose 
did  I  reiterate  that  hitherto  I  had  made  no  effort  to  escape. 
It  is  not  in  the  hour  of  defeat  that  a  Frenchman  can  be- 
have either  with  humanity  or  justice.  A  volley  of  sacrts 
was  the  only  answer  I  received,  and  nothing  was  left  me 
but  to  yield. 

Meanwhile  the  tumult  and  confusion  of  the  town  was  in- 
creasing every  minute.  Heavy  wagons  inscribed  in  large 
letters,  "  Domaine  exterieure  de  sa  Majeste  l'Empereur," 
containing  the  jewels  and  treasures  of  Madrid,  passed  by, 
drawn  by  eight  and  sometimes  ten  horses,  and  accompanied 
by  strong  cavalry  detachments.  Infantry  regiments,  black- 
ened with  smoke  and  gunpowder,  newly  arrived  from  the 
field,  hurried  past  to  take  up  positions  on  the  Bayonne  road 
to  protect  the  retreat ;  then  came  the  nearer  din  and  crash 
of  the  artillery  as  the  French  army  were  falling  back  upon 
the  town. 

Scarcely  had  we  issued  from  the  walls  of  the  city  when 
the  whole  scene  of  flight  and  ruin  was  presented  to  our 
eyes.     The  country  for  miles  round  was  one  moving  mass 


THE   RETREAT.  207 

of  fugitives ;  cannon,  wagons,  tumbrils,  wounded  soldiers, 
horsemen,  and  even  splendid  equipages  were  all  mixed  up 
together  pn  the  Pampeluna  road  which  lay  to  our  right. 
The  march  was  there  intercepted  by  an  overturned  wagon  ; 
the  horses  were  plunging,  and  the  cries  of  wounded  men 
could  be  heard  even  where  we  were.  The  fields  at  each 
side  of  the  way  were  soon  spread  over  by  the  crowd, 
eager  to  press  on.  Guns  were  now  abandoned  and  thrown 
into  ditches  and  ravines  ;  the  men  broke  their  muskets, 
and  threw  the  fragments  on  the  road-side,  and  vast  maga- 
zines of  powder  were  exploded  here  and  there  through 
the  plain. 

But  my  attention  was  soon  drawn  to  objects  more  immedi- 
ately beside  me.  The  Bayonne  road,  which  we  now  reached, 
was  the  last  hope  of  the  retiring  army.  To  maintain  this 
line  of  retreat  strong  detachments  of  infantry,  supported  by 
heavy  guns,  were  stationed  at  every  eminence  commanding 
the  position  ;  but  the  swooping  torrent  of  the  retreat  had 
left  little  time  for  these  to  form,  many  of  whom  were  borne 
along  with  the  flying  army.  Discipline  gave  way  on  every 
side  ;  the  men  sprang  upon  the  wagons,  refusing  to  march ; 
the  treasures  were  broken  open  and  thrown  upon  the  road. 
Frequently  the  baggage-guard  interchanged  shots  and  sabre- 
cuts  with  the  infuriated  soldiers,  who  only  thought  of  es- 
cape; and  the  ladies,  who  but  yesterday  were  the  objects 
of  every  care  and  solicitude,  were  hurried  along  amid  that 
rude  multitude,  —  some  on  foot,  others  glad  to  be  allowed 
to  take  a  place  in  the  ambulance  among  the  wounded,  their 
dresses  blood-stained  and  torn,  adding  to  the  horror  and 
misery  of  the  scene. 

Such  was  the  prospect  before  us.  Behind,  a  dark  mass 
hovered  as  if  even  yet  withstanding  the  attack  of  the  enemy, 
whose  guns  thundered  clearer  and  clearer  every  moment. 
Still  the  long  line  of  wounded  came  on,  —  some  in  wide 
open  carts,  others  stretched  upon  the  gun-carriages,  man- 
gled and  bleeding.  Among  these  my  attention  was  drawn 
to  one  whose  head  having  fallen  over  the  edge  of  the  cart 
was  endangered  by  every  roll  of  the  heavy  wheel  that  grazed 


208  JACK   HIXTOX,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

his  very  skull.  There  was  a  halt,  and  I  seized  the  moment 
to  assist  the  poor  fellow  as  he  lay  thus  in  peril.  His  hel- 
met had  fallen  back,  and  was  merely  retained  by  the  brass 
chain  beneath  his  chin  ;  his  temples  were  actually  cleft 
open  by  a  sabre-cut,  and  I  could  see  that  he  had  also  re- 
ceived some  shot-wounds  in  the  side,  where  he  pressed  his 
hands,  the  blood  welling  up  between  the  fingers.  As  I 
lifted  the  head  to  place  it  within  the  cart,  the  eyes  opened 
and  turned  fully  upon  me.  A  faint  smile  of  gratitude  curled 
his  lip ;  I  bent  over  him,  and  to  my  horror  recognized  in 
the  mangled  and  shattered  form  before  me  the  gallant  fel- 
low with  whom  the  very  night  before  I  had  formed  almost 
a  friendship.  The  word  "  cold,"  muttered  between  his  teeth, 
was  the  only  answer  I  could  catch  as  I  called  him  by  his 
name.  The  order  to  march  rang  out  from  the  head  of  the 
convoy,  and  I  had  barely  time  to  unfasten  my  cloak  and 
throw  it  over  him  ere  the  wagon  moved  on.  I  never  saw 
him  after. 

A  squadron  of  cavalry  now  galloped  past,  reckless  of  all 
before  them ;  the  traces  of  their  artillery  were  cut,  and  the 
men,  mounting  the  horses,  deserted  the  guns,  and  rode  for 
their  lives.  In  the  midst  of  the  flying  mass  a  splendid 
equipage  flew  past,  its  six  horses  lashed  to  madness  by  the 
postillions ;  a  straggling  guard  of  honor  galloped  at  either 
side,  and  a  grand  ecuyer  in  scarlet,  who  rode  in  front,  called 
out  incessantly,  "Place,  place,  pour  sa  Majeste!"  But  all 
to  no  purpose  ;  the  road,  blocked  up  by  broken  wagons, 
dense  crowds  of  horse-and-foot,  dead  and  dying,  soon  be- 
came impassable.  An  effort  to  pass  a  heavily-loaded  wagon 
entangled  the  coach  ;  the  axle  was  caught  by  the  huge 
wagon ;  the  horses  plunged  when  they  felt  the  restraint, 
and  the  next  moment  the  royal  carriage  was  hurled  over  on 
its  side,  and  fell  with  a  crash  into  the  ravine  at  the  road- 
side. While  the  officers  of  his  staff  dismounted  to  rescue 
the  fallen  monarch,  a  ribald  burst  of  laughter  rose  from 
the  crowd,  and  a  pioneer  actually  gave  the  butt  of  his  car- 
bine to  assist  the  king  as,  covered  with  mud,  he  scrambled 
up  the  ditch.     I  had  but  an  instant  to  look  upon  his  pale 


THE   RETREAT.  209 

countenance,  which  even  since  the  night  before  seemed  to 
have  grown  many  years  older,  ere  I  was  myself  dragged 
forward  among  the  crowd. 

Darkness  now  added  its  horror  to  the  scene  of  riot  and 
confusion.  The  incessant  cries  of  the  fugitives  told  that 
the  English  cavalry  were  upon  them  ;  the  artillery  came 
closer  and  closer,  and  the  black  sky  was  traversed  by  many 
a  line  of  fire,  as  the  shells  poured  down  upon  the  routed 
army.  The  English  guns,  regardless  of  roads,  dashed  down 
on  the  terrified  masses,  raining  balls  and  howitzer-shells  on 
every  side.  Already  the  cheers  of  my  gallant  countrymen 
were  within  my  hearing,  and  amid  all  the  misery  and  dan- 
ger around  me  my  heart  rose  proudly  at  the  glorious  vic- 
tory they  had  gained. 

Meanwhile  my  escort,  whose  feeling  towards  me  became 
more  brutal  as  their  defeat  was  more  perceptible,  urged  me 
forward  with  many  an  oath  and  imprecation.  Leaving  the 
main  road,  we  took  the  fields,  already  crowded  with  the  in- 
fantry. At  last,  as  the  charges  of  the  English  came  closer, 
my  escort  seemed  to  hesitate  upon  being  any  longer  bur- 
dened by  me,  and  one,  after  interchanging  some  angry  words 
with  his  companion,  rode  off,  leaving  me  to  the  care  of  him 
who  passed  the  cord  round  my  wrist.  For  a  second  or  two 
this  fellow  seemed  to  waver  whether  he  might  not  dispose 
of  me  more  briefly,  and  once  he  half  withdrew  his  pistol 
from  the  holster,  and  turned  round  in  his  saddle  to  regard 
me  more  steadily.  A  better  feeling,  however,  gained  the 
mastery  ;  the  hope,  too,  of  promotion,  could  he  bring  in  an 
officer  his  prisoner,  had  doubtless  its  share  in  his  decision. 
He  ordered  me  to  jump  up  behind  him,  and  dashing  spurs 
into  his  troop-horse  rode  forward. 

I  have,  perhaps,  lingered  too  long  in  my  recollections  of 
this  eventful  night ;  it  was,  however,  the  last  striking  in- 
cident which  preceded  a  long  captivity.  On  the  third  day 
of  the  retreat  I  was  joined  to  a  band  of  Spanish  prisoners 
marching  towards  Bayonne.  Of  the  glorious  victory  which 
rescued  the  Peninsula  from  the  dominion  of  the  French, 
and  drove  their  beaten  armies  beyond  the  Pyrenees,  or  of 

VOL.  II.  — 14 


210  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUAKDSMAN. 

the  great  current  of  events  which  followed  the  battle  of 
Vittoria,  I  do  not  purpose  to  speak.  Neither  will  I  trouble 
jny  reader  with  a  narrative  of  hardship  and  suffering ;  it  is 
.enough  to  mention  that  my  refusal  to  give  my  parole  sub- 
jected me  in  all  cases  to  every  indignity.  Wearied  out  at 
length,  however,  I  accepted  this  only  chance  of  rendering 
life  endurable ;  and  on  reaching  Bayonne  I  gave  my  word 
not  to  attempt  my  escape,  and  was  accordingly  separated 
from  my  companions  in  misfortune,  and  once  more  treated 
as  a  gentleman. 

The  refusal  to  accept  "  parole,"  I  learned  afterwards,  was 
invariably  construed  by  the  French  authorities  of  the  day 
into  a  direct  avowal  not  only  to  attempt  escape  by  any 
means  that  might  present  themselves,  but  was  also  deemed 
a  rejection  of  the  hospitality  of  the  country,  which  placed 
the  recusant  beyond  the  pale  of  its  courtesy.  No  sooner 
had  I  complied  with  this  necessity  —  for  such  it  was  — 
than  I  experienced  the  greatest  kindness  and  politeness 
in  every  quarter.  Through  every  village  in  the  south,  the 
house  of  the  most  respectable  inhabitant  was  always  opened 
to  me ;  and  with  a  delicacy  it  would  be  difficult  to  match 
elsewhere,  although  the  events  of  the  Spanish  war  were  the 
subjects  of  general  interest  wherever  we  passed,  not  a  word 
was  spoken  nor  a  hint  dropped  before  the  "prisoner" 
which  could  in  the  slightest  degree  offend  his  nationality 
or  hurt  his  susceptibility  as  an  enemy. 

I  shall  now  beg  of  my  reader  to  pass  over  with  me  a 
long  interval  of  time,  during  which  my  life  presented 
nothing  of  interest  or  incident,  and  accompany  me  to  the 
environs  of  St.  Omer,  where,  in  the  commencement  of  the 
year  1814, 1  found  myself  domesticated  as  a  prisoner  of  war 
on  parole.  Daring  the  long  period  that  had  elapsed  since  the 
battle  of  Vittoria,  I  had  but  once  heard  from  home.  Mat- 
ters there  were  pretty  much  as  I  had  left  them.  My  father 
had  removed  to  a  colonial  appointment,  whence  he  trans- 
mitted the  rich  revenues  of  his  office  to  my  mother,  whose 
habitual  economy  enabled  her  to  dispense  hospitality  at  Bath, 


THE   RETREAT.  211 

much  in  the  same  kind  of  way  as  she  had  formerly  done  at 
London.  My  lovely  cousin  —  in  the  full  possession  of  her 
beauty  and  a  large  fortune  —  had  refused  some  half-dozen 
brilliant'proposals,  and  was  reported  to  have  an  unswerving 
attachment  to  some  near  relative,  —  which  happy  individ- 
ual, my  mother  suggested,  was  myself.  Of  the  Bellews,  I 
learned  from  the  newspapers  that  Sir  Simon  was  dead ;  and 
Miss  Bellew,  having  recovered  most  of  the  great  estates  of 
her  family  through  the  instrumentality  of  a  clever  attorney 
(whom  I  guessed  to  be  my  friend  Paul),  was  now  the  great 
belle  and  fortune  of  Dublin.  I  had  frequently  written  home, 
and  once  or  twice  to  the  Rooneys  and  the  major,  but  never 
received  any  answer ;  so  that  at  last  I  began  to  think  my- 
self forgotten  by  every  one,  and  dreamed  away  my  life  in  a 
state  of  almost  apathy,  —  dead  to  the  exciting  events  of  the 
campaign,  Avhich,  even  in  the  seclusion  where  I  lived,  were 
from  time  to  time  reported.  The  brilliant  march  of  our 
victorious  troops  through  the  Pyrenees  and  the  south  of 
France,  Nivelle,  Orthes,  and  Toulouse,  I  read  of  as  people 
read  of  long  past  events.  Life  to  me  appeared  to  have  run 
out ;  and  my  thoughts  turned  ever  backward  to  the  bright 
morning  of  my  career  in  Ireland,  —  my  early  burst  of  man- 
hood, my  first  and  only  passion. 

The  old  royalist  seigneur  upon  whom  I  was  billetted 
could  evidently  make  nothing  of  the  stolid  indifference  with 
which  I  heard  him  and  his  antiquated  spouse  discuss  the 
glorious  prospect  of  a  restoration  of  the  Bourbons :  even 
the  hope  of  libert}7  was  dying  away  within  me.  One  ever- 
present  thought  had  clamped  all  ardor  and  all  ambition,  — 
I  had  done  nothing  as  a  soldier ;  my  career  had  ended  as  it 
begun ;  and  while  others  had  risen  to  fame  and  honor  my 
name  had  won  nothing  of  distinction  and  repute.  Instead 
of  anxiously  looking  forward  to  a  meeting  with  Louisa 
Bellew,  I  dreaded  the  very  thoughts  of  it.  My  mother's 
fashionable  morgue  and  indifference  I  should  now  feel  as  a 
sarcasm  on  my  own  failure ;  and  as  to  my  cousin  Julia,  the 
idea  alone  of  her  raillery  was  insufferable.  The  only  plan 
I  could  devise  for  the  future  was,  as  soon  as  I  should  re- 


212  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

cover  my  liberty,  to  exchange  into  some  regiment  in  the 
East  Indies,  and  never  to  return  to  England. 

It  was,  then,  with  some  surprise  and  not  much  sympathy 
that  I  beheld  my  venerable  host  appear  one  morning  at 
breakfast  with  a  large  white  cockade  in  the  breast  of  his 
frock  coat,  and  a  huge  white  lily  in  a  wine-glass  before  him. 
His  elated  manner  and  joyous  looks  were  all  so  many  rid- 
dles to  me ;  while  the  roll  of  drums  in  the  peaceful  little 
town,  the  ringing  of  bells,  and  the  shouts  of  the  inhabitants 
were  all  too  much  even  for  apathy  like  mine. 

"  What  is  the  tintamarre  about  ? "  said  I,  pettishly,  as 
I  saw  the  old  gentleman  fidget  from  the  table  to  the  win- 
dow and  then  back  again,  rubbing  his  hands,  admiring  his 
cockade,  and  smelling  at  the  lily,  alternately. 

"Tintamarre  !  "  said  he,  indignantly,  "  savez-vous,  Mon- 
sieur ?  Ce  n'est  pas  le  mot,  celui-la.  We  are  restored, 
sir !  we  have  regained  our  rightful  throne !  we  are  no 
longer  exiles !  " 

"  Yes ! "  said  the  old  lady,  bursting  into  the  room,  and 
throwing  herself  into  her  husband's  arms,  and  then  into 
mine,  in  a  rapture  of  enthusiasm,  — "  yes,  brave  young 
man !  to  you  and  your  victorious  companions  in  arms  we 
owe  the  happiness  of  this  moment.     We  are  restored  ! " 

"  Oui !  restored  !  restored ! "  echoed  the  old  gentleman, 
throwing  open  the  window,  and  shouting  as  though  he 
would  have  burst  a  blood-vessel ;  while  the  mob  without, 
catching  up  the  cry,  yelled  it  louder  than  ever. 

"  These  people  must  be  all  deranged,"  thought  I,  unable  to 
conjecture  at  the  moment  the  reasons  for  such  extravagant 
joy.  Meanwhile,  the  room  became  crowded  with  towns- 
people in  holiday  costume,  all  wearing  the  white  cockade, 
and  exchanging  with  one  another  the  warmest  felicitations 
at  the  happy  event. 

I  now  soon  learned  that  the  allies  were  in  the  possession 
of  Paris,  that  Napoleon  had  abdicated,  and  the  immediate 
return  of  Louis  XVIII.  was  already  decided  upon.  The 
trumpets  of  a  cavalry  regiment  on  the  march  were  soon 
added  to  the  uproar  without,  accompanied  by  cries  of  "  The 


THE   RETREAT.  213 

English  !  The  brave  English  ! "  I  rushed  to  the  door,  and 
to  my  astonishment  beheld  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd 
the  tall  caps  of  a  British  dragoon  regiment  towering  aloft. 
Their  band  struck  up  as  they  approached ;  and  what  a  sen- 
sation did  my  heart  experience  as  I  heard  the  well  re- 
membered air  of  "  Garryowen "  resound  through  the  little 
streets  of  a  French  village  ! 

"  An  Irish  regiment ! "  said  I,  half  aloud. 

The  word  was  caught  by  a  bystander,  who  immediately 
communicated  it  to  the  crowd,  adding,  by  way  of  ex- 
planation, "  Les  Irlandois !  oui,  ces  sont  les  Cossaques 
d'Angleterre." 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  interpretation,  when 
suddenly  my  own  name  was  called  out  loudly  by  some  per- 
son from  the  ranks.  I  started  at  the  sound,  and  forcing 
my  way  through  the  crowd  I  looked  eagerly  on  every  side, 
my  heart  beating  with  anxiety  lest  some  deception  might 
have  misled  me. 

"  Hinton !  Jack  Hinton !  "  cried  the  voice  again.  At  the 
head  of  the  regiment  rode  three  officers,  whose  looks  were 
bent  steadily  on  me,  while  they  seemed  to  enjoy  my  sur- 
prise and  confusion.  The  oldest  of  the  party,  who  rode 
between  the  two  others,  was  a  large  swarthy-looking  man, 
with  a  long  drooping  mustache,  at  that  time  rarely  worn 
by  officers  of  our  army.  His  left  arm  he  wore  in  a  sling ; 
but  his  right  was  held  in  a  certain  easy,  jaunty  manner  I 
could  not  soon  forget.  A  burst  of  laughter  broke  from  him 
at  length,  as  he  called  out,  — 

"  Come,  Jack,  you  must  remember  me  !  " 

"  What !  "  cried  I,  "  O'Grady  !     Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"Even  so,  ray  boy,"  said  he,  as  throwing  his  reins  on  his 
wrist  he  grasped  my  hand  and  shook  it  with  all  his  heart. 
"  I  knew  you  were  here,  and  I  exerted  all  my  interest  to 
get  quartered  near  you.  This  is  my  regiment  —  eh  ?  —  not 
fellows  to  be  ashamed  of,  Jack  ?  But  come  along  with  us ; 
we  must  n't  part  company  now." 

Amid  the  wildest  cries  of  rejoicing  and  frantic  demon- 
strations of  gratitude  from  the  crowd,  the  regiment  moved 


214  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

on  to  the  little  square  of  the  village.  Here  the  billets 
were  speedily  arranged;  the  men  betook  themselves  to 
their  quarters,  the  officers  broke  into  small  parties,  and 
O'Grady  and  myself  retired  to  the  inn,  where,  having  dined 
tete-d-tete,  we  began  the  interchange  of  our  various  adven- 
tures since  we  parted. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE    FOUR-IN-HAND. 

~" 1 

My  old  friend,  save  in  the  deeper  brown  upon  his  cheek 
and  some  scars  from  French  sabres,  was  nothing  altered 
from  the  hour  in  which  we  parted  ;  the  same  bold,  generous 
temperament,  the  same  blending  of  recklessness  and  deep 
feeling,  the  wild  spirit  of  adventure,  and  the  gentle  tender- 
ness of  a  child  were  all  mixed  up  in  his  complex  nature, 
for  he  was  every  inch  an  Irishman.  While  the  breast  of 
his  uniform  glittered  with  many  a  cross  and  decoration,  he 
scarcely  ever  alluded  to  his  own  feats  in  the  campaign; 
nor  did  he  more  than  passingly  mention  the  actions  where 
his  own  conduct  had  been  most  conspicuous.  Indeed,  there 
was  a  reserve  in  his  whole  manner  while  speaking  of  the 
Peninsular  battles  which  I  soon  discovered  proceeded  from 
delicacy  towards  me,  knowing  how  little  I  had  seen  of  ser- 
vice from  my  early  imprisonment,  and  fearing  lest  in  the 
detail  of  the  glorious  career  of  our  armies  he  might  be 
inflicting  fresh  wounds  on  one  whose  fortune  forbade  him 
to  share  in  it.  He  often  asked  me  about  my  father,  andj 
seemed  to  feel  deeply  the  kindness  he  had  received  from 
him  when  in  London.  Of  my  mother,  too,  he  sometimes 
spoke,  but  never  even  alluded  to  Lady  Julia;  and  when 
once  I  spoke  of  her  as  the  protector  of  Corny,  he  fidgetted 
for  a  second  or  two,  seemed  uneasy  and  uncomfortable,  and 
gave  me  the  impression  that  he  teifc  sorry  to  be  reduced  to 
accept  a  favor  for  his  servant,  where  he  himself  had  been 
treated  with  coldness  and  distance. 

Apart  from  this  —  and  it  was  a  topic  we  mutually 
avoided  —  O'Grady's  spirits  were  as  high  as  ever.  Mixing 
much  with  the  officers  of  his  corps,  he  was  actually  beloved 


216  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

by  them.  He  joined  in  all  their  schemes  of  pleasure  and 
amusement  with  the  zest  of  his  own  buoyant  nature ;  and  the 
youngest  cornet  in  the  regiment  felt  himself  the  colonel's 
inferior  in  the  gayety  of  the  mess  as  much  as  at  the  head 
of  the  squadrons. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  days  I  received  from  Paris  the 
papers  necessary  to  relieve  me  from  the  restraint  of  my 
parole,  and  was  concerting  with  0' Grady  the  steps  neces- 
sary to  be  taken  to  resume  my  rank  in  the  service,  when 
an  incident  occurred  which  altered  all  our  plans  for  the 
moment,  and,  by  one  of  those  strange  casualties  which  so 
often  occur  in  life,  gave  a  new  current  to  my  own  fate 
forever. 

I  should  mention  here,  that,  amid  all  the  rejoicings  which 
ushered  in  the  restoration,  amid  all  the  flattery  by  which 
the  allied  armies  were  received,  one  portion  of  the  royalists 
maintained  a  dogged,  ungenial  spirit  towards  the  men  by 
whom  their  cause  was  rendered  victorious,  and  never  for- 
gave them  the  honor  of  reviving  a  dynasty  to  which  they 
themselves  had  contributed  nothing.  These  were  the  old 
militaires  of  Louis  XVIII.,  —  the  men  who,  too  proud  or 
too  good-for-nothing  to  accept  service  under  the  Emperor, 
had  lain  dormant  during  the  glorious  career  of  the  French 
armies,  and  who  now,  in  their  hour  of  defeat  and  adversity, 
started  into  life  as  the  representatives  of  the  military 
genius  of  the  country.  These  men,  I  say,  hated  the  Eng- 
lish with  a  vindictive  animosity  which  the  old  Napoleon- 
ists  could  not  equal.  Without  the  generous  rivalry  of  an 
open  foe,  they  felt  themselves  humbled  by  comparison  with 
the  soldiers  whose  weather-beaten  faces  and  shattered  limbs 
bore  token  of  a  hundred  battles,  and  for  the  very  cause,  too, 
for  which  they  themselves  were  the  most  interested.  This 
ungenerous  spirit  found  vent  for  itself  in  a  thousand  petty 
annoyances,  which  were  practised  upon  our  troops  in  every 
town  and  village  of  the  north  of  France ;  and  every  officer 
whose  billet  consigned  him  to  the  house  of  a  royalist  soldier 
would  gladly  have  exchanged  his  quarters  for  the  com- 
panionship of  the  most  inveterate  follower   of  Napoleon. 


TEE  FOUR-IN-HAND.  217 

To  an  instance  of  what  I  have  mentioned  was  owing  the 
incident  which  I  am  about  to  relate. 

To  relieve  the  ennui  of  a  French  village,  the  officers  of 
the  Eighteenth  had,  Avith  wonderful  expenditure  of  skill 
and  labor,  succeeded  in  getting  up  a  four-in-hand  drag, 
which  to  the  astonishment  and  wonder  of  the  natives  was 
seen  daily  wending  its  course  through  the  devious  alleys  and 
narrow  streets  of  the  little  town,  the  roof  covered  with 
dashing  dragoons,  whose  laughing  faces  and  loud-sounding 
bugles  were  all  deemed  so  many  direct  insults  by  the  ill- 
conditioned  party  I  have  mentioned.  The  unequivocal 
evidences  of  dislike  they  exhibited  to  this  dashing  "  turn- 
out "  formed,  I  believe,  one  of  its  great  attractions  to  the 
Eighteenth,  who  never  omitted  an  occasion,  whatever  the 
state  of  the  weather,  to  issue  forth  every  day,  with  all  the 
noise  and  uproar  they  could  muster. 

At  last,  however,  the  old  commissaire  de  police,  whose  in- 
dignation at  the  proceeding  knew  no  bounds,  devised  an  ad- 
mirable expedient  for  annoying  our  fellows,  —  one  which, 
supported  as  it  was  by  the  law  of  the  country,  there  was  no 
possibilit}7  of  evading.  This  was  to  demand  the  passport 
of  every  officer  who  passed  the  barriere,  thus  necessitat- 
ing him  to  get  down  from  the  roof  of  the  coach,  present 
his  papers,  and  have  them  carefully  conned  and  scruti- 
nized, their  visee  looked  into,  and  all  sorts  of  questions 
propounded. 

When  it  is  understood  that  the  only  drive  led  through 
one  or  other  of  these  barriers,  it  may  be  imagined  how  pro- 
voking and  vexatious  such  a  course  of  proceeding  became. 
Representations  were  made  to  the  mayor  over  and  anon, 
explaining  that  the  passports  once  produced  no  further  in- 
convenience should  be  incurred;  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
Any  one  who  knows  France  will  acknowledge  how  totally 
inadequate  a  common-sense  argument  is  in  the  decision  of 
a  question  before  a  government  functionary.  The  mayor, 
too,  was  a  royalist,  and  the  matter  was  decided  against  us. 

Argument  and  reason  having  failed,  the  gallant  Eigh- 
teenth came  to  the  resolution  to  try  force ;  and  accordingly 


218  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

it  was  decided  that  next  morning  we  should  charge  the  bar- 
riere  in  full  gallop,  as  it  was  rightly  conjectured  that  no 
French  employe  would  feel  disposed  to  encounter  the  rush 
of  a  four-in-hand,  even  with  the  law  on  his  side.  To  ren- 
der the  coup-de-main  more  brilliant,  and  perhaps,  too,  to 
give  an  air  of  plausibility  to  the  infraction,  four  dashing 
thoroughbred  light  chestnuts  —  two  of  the  number  having 
never  felt  a  collar  in  their  lives  —  were  harnessed  for  the 
occasion.  A  strong  force  of  the  wildest  spirits  of  the  regi- 
ment took  their  places  on  the  roof ;  and  amid  a  cheer  that 
actually  made  the  street  ring,  and  a  tantarara  from  the 
trumpets,  the  equipage  dashed  through  the  town,  the  lead- 
ers bounding  with  the  swingle-bars  every  moment  over 
their  backs.  Away  we  went,  the  populace  flying  in  terror 
on  every  side,  and  every  eye  turned  towards  the  barriere, 
where  the  dignified  official  stood,  in  the  calm  repose  of  his 
station,  as  if  daring  us  to  transgress  his  frontier.  Already 
had  he  stepped  forward  with  his  accustomed  question. 
The  words,  "  Messieurs,  je  vous  demande,"  had  just  escaped 
his  lips,  when  he  had  barely  time  to  spring  into. his  den  as 
the  furious  leaders  tore  past,  the  pavement  crashing  be- 
neath their  hoofs,  and  shouts  of  laughter  mingling  with 
the  uproar. 

Having  driven  for  a  league  or  so  at  a  slow  pace,  to 
breathe  our  cattle,  we  turned  homewards,  rejoicing  in  the 
success  of  our  scheme,  which  had  fully  satisfied  our  ex- 
pectations. What  was  our  chagrin,  however,  as  we  neared 
the  barriere,  to  discover  that  a  strong  force  of  mounted 
gendarmes  stopped  the  way,  their  drawn  sabres  giving 
us  plainly  to  understand  the  fate  that  awaited  our  horses 
if  we  persisted  in  our  plan !  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
To  force  a  passage  under  the  circumstances  was  only  to 
give  an  opportunity  to  the  gendarmerie  they  were  long 
anxious  for,  to  cut  our  whole  equipage  in  pieces.  To  yield 
was  the  only  alternative ;  but  what  an  alternative !  —  to 
be  laughed  at  by  the  whole  town  on  the  very  day  of 
our  victory ! 

"  I  have  it ! "   said  O'Grady,  who  sat  on  the  box  beside 


THE  FOUR-IN-HAND.  219 

the  driver,  —  "I  have  it,  lads  !  Pull  up  when  they  tell 
you,  and  do  as  they  direct." 

With  some  difficulty  the  four  dashing  nags  were  reined 
in  as  we' came  up  to  the  barriere  ;  and  the  commissaire, 
bursting  with  passion,  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  lodge, 
and  directed  us  to  get  down. 

"  Your  passports  will  avail  little  on  the  present  occasion," 
said  he,  insolently,  as  we  produced  our  papers.  "  Your 
carriage  and  horses  are  confiscated.  St.  Omer  has  now 
privilege  as  a  fortified  town.  The  fortresses  of  France 
enforce  a  penalty  of  forty  thousand  francs  — " 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  bystanders  at  our  rueful 
faces  prevented  us  hearing  the  remainder  of  the  explana- 
tion. Meanwhile,  to  our  horror  and  disgust,  some  half- 
dozen  gendarmes,  with  their  long  caps  and  heavy  boots, 
were  crawling  up  the  sides  of  the  drag,  and  taking  their 
seats  upon  the  top.  Some  crept  into  the  interior,  and 
showed  their  grinning  faces  at  the  windows ;  others 
mounted  into  the  rumble;  and  two  more  aspiring  spirits 
ascended  to  the  box,  by  one  of  whom  O'Grady  was  rudely 
ordered  to  get  down,  a  summons  enforced  by  the  commis- 
saire himself  in  a  tone  of  considerable  insolence.  O'Grady's 
face  for  a  minute  or  two  seemed  working  with  a  secret  im- 
pulse of  fun  and  devilment  which  I  could  not  account  for 
at  such  a  moment,  as  he  asked,  in  a  voice  of  much 
humility,  — 

''Does  Monsieur  the  Commissaire  require  me  to  come 
down  ?  " 

"  Instantly !  "  roared  the  Frenchman,  whose  passion  was 
now  boiling  over. 

"  In  that  case,  gentlemen,  take  charge  of  the  team."  So 
saying,  he  handed  the  reins  to  the  passive  gendarmes,  who 
took  them,  without  well  knowing  why.  "  I  have  only  a 
piece  of  advice,"  continued  Phil,  as  he  slowly  descended 
the  side,  —  "  keep  a  steady  hand  on  the  near-side  leader, 
and  don't  let  the  bar  strike  her ;  and  now,  good-by." 

He  flourished  his  four-in-hand  whip  as  he  spoke,  and 
with  one  tremendous  cut  came  down  on  the  team,  from 


220  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

leader  to  wheeler,  accompanying  the  stroke  with  a  yell 
there  was  no  mistaking.  The  heavy  carriage  bounded  from 
the  earth,  as  the  infuriated  cattle  broke  away  at  full  gallop. 
A  narrow  street  and  a  sharp  angle  lay  straight  in  front ; 
but  few  of  those  on  the  drag  waited  for  the  turn,  as  at 
every  step  some  bear-skin  shako  shot  into  the  air,  followed 
by  a  tall  figure,  whose  heavy  boots  seemed  ill  adapted  for 
flying  in.  The  corporal  himself  had  abandoned  the  reins, 
and  held  on  manfully  by  the  rail  of  the  box.  On  every 
side  they  fell,  in  every  attitude  of  distress.  But  already 
the  leaders  had  reached  the  corner ;  round  went  the  swingle- 
bars,  the  wheelers  followed,  the  coach  rocked  to  one  side, 
sprang  clean  off  the  pavement,  came  down  with  a  crash,  and 
then  fell  right  over,  while  the  maddened  horses,  breaking 
away,  dashed  through  the  town,  the  harness  in  fragments 
behind  them,  and  the  pavement  flying  at  every  step. 

The  immediate  consequences  of  this  affair  were  some 
severe  bruises,  and  no  small  discouragement  to  the  gen- 
darmerie of  St.  Omer ;  the  remoter  ones,  an  appeal  from 
the  municipal  authorities  to  the  commander-in-chief,  by 
whom  the  matter  was  referred  for  examination  to  the  adju- 
tant-general. 0' Grady  was  accordingly  summoned  to  Paris 
to  explain,  if  he  could,  his  conduct  in  the  matter.  The 
order  for  his  appearance  there  came  down  at  once,  and  I, 
having  nothing  to  detain  me  at  St.  Omer,  resolved  to 
accompany  my  friend  for  a  few  days  at  least,  before  I 
returned  to  England.  Our  arrangements  were  easily  made; 
and  the  same  night  we  received  the  adjutant-general's 
letter  we  started  by  post  for  Paris. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

ST.    DENIS. 

We  were  both  suddenly  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep  in 
the  caleche  by  the  loud  cracking  of  the  postillion's  whip, 
the  sounds  of  street  noises,  and  the  increased  rattle  of  the 
wheels  over  the  unequal  pavement.  We  started  up  just  as, 
turning  round  in  his  saddle  and  pointing  with  his  long  whip 
to  either  side  of  him,  the  fellow  called  out,  — 

"  Paris,  Messieurs,  Paris  !  This  is  Faubourg  St.  Denis  ; 
there  before  you  lies  the  Rue  St.  Denis.  Sacristi!  the 
streets  are  as  crowded  as  at  noon-day." 

By  this  time  we  had  rubbed  the  sleep  from  our  eyelids 
and  looked  about  us,  and  truly  the  scene  before  us  was  one 
to  excite  all  our  astonishment.  The  Quartier  St.  Denis  was 
then  in  the  occupation  of  the  Austrian  troops,  who  were  not 
only  billetted  in  the  houses,  but  bivouacked  in  the  open 
streets,  —  their  horses  picquetted  in  long  files  along  the 
pavd,  the  men  asleep  around  their  watch-fires,  or  burnish- 
ing arms  and  accoutrements  beside  them.  The  white-clad 
cuirassier  from  the  Danube,  the  active  and  sinewy  Hun- 
garian, the  tall  and  swarthy  Croat  were  all  there,  mixed  up 
among  groups  of  peasant  girls  coming  in  to  market  with 
fowls  and  eggs.  Carts  of  forage  and  wagons  full  of  all 
manner  of  provisions  were  surrounded  by  groups  of  sol- 
diers and  country  people,  trading  amicably  with  one  an- 
other as  though  the  circumstances  which  had  brought  them 
together  were  among  the  ordinary  events  of  commerce. 

Threading  our  way  slowly  through  these,  we  came  upon 
the  Jager  encampment,  their  dark -green  uniform  and  brown 
carbines  giving  that  air  of  sombre  to  their  appearance  so 
striking  after  the  steel-clad  cuirassier  and  the  bright  hel- 


OF   THE 


UNIVERSITY 


222  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

mets  of  the  dragoons.  Farther  on,  around  a  fountain,  were 
a  body  of  dismounted  dragoons,  their  tall  calpacks  and  sear- 
let  trousers  bespeaking  them  Polish  lancers  ;  their  small 
but  beautifully  formed  white  horses  pawed  the  ground,  and 
splashed  the  water  round  them,  till  the  dust  and  foam  rose 
high  above  them.  But  the  strangest  of  all  were  the  tall, 
gigantic  figures,  who,  stretched  alongside  of  their  horses, 
slept  in  the  very  middle  of  the  wide  street.  Lifting  their 
heads  lazily  for  a  moment,  they  gazed  on  us  as  we  passed, 
and  then  lay  down  again  to  sleep.  Their  red  beards  hung  in 
masses  far  down  upon  their  breasts,  and  their  loose  trousers 
of  a  reddish  dye  but  half  concealed  boots  of  undressed  skin. 
Their  tall  lances  were  piled  around  them;  but  these  were  not 
wanting  to  prove  that  the  savage,  fierce-looking  figures  be- 
fore us  were  the  Cossacks  of  the  Don,  thus  come  for  many 
a  hundred  mile  to  avenge  the  slaughter  of  Borodino  and  the 
burning  of  Moscow.  As  we  penetrated  farther  into  the  city, 
the  mixture  of  nation  and  costume  became  still  more  re- 
markable. The  erect  and  soldier-like  figure  of  the  Prussian ; 
the  loose,  wild-eyed  Tartar  ;  the  brown-clad  Russian,  with 
russet  beard  and  curved  sabre  ;  the  stalwart  Highlander, 
with  nodding  plume  and  waving  tartan ;  the  Bashkir,  with 
naked  scimitar  ;  the  gorgeous  hussar  of  Hungary ;  the  tall 
and  manly  form  of  the  English  guardsman,  —  all  passed 
and  re-passed  before  us,  adding,  by  the  babel  of  discordant 
sound,  to  the  wild  confusion  of  the  scene. 

It  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  the  savage  soldier  from  the 
steppes  of  Russia,  the  dark-eyed,  heavy-browed  Gallician, 
the  yellow-haired  Saxon,  the  rude  native  of  the  Caucasus 
who  had  thus  given  themselves  a  rendezvous  in  the  very 
heart  of  European  civilization,  wandering  about,  —  now  stop- 
ping to  admire  some  magnificent  palace,  now  gazing  with 
greedy  wonder  at  the  rich  display  of  some  jeweller,  or  the 
costly  and  splendid  dresses  which  were  exhibited  in  the 
shop  windows ;  while  here  and  there  were  gathered  groups 
of  men  whose  looks  of  undisguised  hate  and  malignity  were 
bent  unceasingly  upon  the  moving  mass.  Their  bourgeois 
dress  could  not  conceal  that  they  were  the  old  soldiers  of 


ST.  DENIS.  223 

the  empire, — the  men  of  Wagram,  of  Austerlitz,  of  Jena, 
and  of  Wilna,  —  who  now  witnessed  within  their  own  capital 
the  awful  retribution  of  their  own  triumphant  aggressions. 

As  the  morning  advanced  the  crowds  increased,  and  as 
we  approached  the  Place  du  Carousel,  regiments  poured  in 
from  every  street  to  the  morning  parade.  Among  these, 
the  Russian  garde — the  Bonnets  oVor — were  conspicuous  for 
the  splendor  of  their  costume  and  the  soldier-like  precision 
of  their  movements,  the  clash  of  their  brass  cymbals  and 
the  wild  strains  of  their  martial  music  adding  indescribably 
to  their  singular  appearance.  As  the  infantry  drew  up  in 
line,  we  stopped  to  regard  them,  when  from  the  Place  Louis 
Quinze  the  clear  notes  of  a  military  band  rang  out  a  quick- 
step, and  the  Twenty-eighth  British  marched  in  to  the  air 
of  "  The  Young  May  Moon."  O'Grady's  excitement  could 
endure  no  longer.  He  jumped  up  in  the  caliche,  and,  wav- 
ing his  hat  above  his  head,  gave  a  cheer  that  rang  through 
the  long  corridor  beneath  the  Louvre.  The  Irish  regi- 
ment caught  up  the  cry,  and  a  yell  as  wild  as  ever  rose 
above  the  din  of  battle  shook  the  air.  A  Cossack  picquet 
tVien  cantering  up  suddenly  halted,  and,  leaning  down  upon 
their  horses'  manes,  seemed  to  listen ;  then  dashing  spurs 
into  their  horses'  flanks  they  made  the  circuit  of  the  Place 
at  full  gallop,  while  their  "  Hurra  ! "  burst  forth  with  all 
the  wild  vehemence  of  their  savage  nature. 

"  We  shall  get  into  some  precious  scrape  with  all  this," 
said  O'Grady,  as,  overcome  with  laughing,  he  fell  back  into 
the  caliche. 

Such  was  my  own  opinion ;  so  telling  the  postillion  to  turn 
short  into  the  next  street  we  hurried  away  unperceived, 
and  drove  with  all  the  speed  we  could  muster  for  the  Rue 
St.  Honore.  The  Hotel  de  la  Paix  fortunately  had  room 
for  us ;  and  ordering  our  breakfasts  we  adjourned  to 
dress,  each  resolving  to  make  the  most  of  his  few  hours 
at  Paris. 

I  had  just  reached  the  breakfast-room,  and  was  conning 
over  the  morning  papers,  when  O'Grady  entered  in  full 
uniform,    his   face   radiant   with   pleasure,   and   the   same 


224  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

easy,  jaunty  swagger  in  his  walk  as  on  the  first  day  I  met 
him. 

"When  do  you  expect  to  have  your  audience,  Phil?" 
said  I. 

"I  have  had  it,  my  boy.  It's  all  over,  finished,  com- 
pleted. Never  was  anything  so  successful.  I  talked  over 
the  old  adjutant  in  such  a  strain,  that,  instead  of  dreaming 
about  a  court-martial  on  us,  the  worthy  man  is  seriously 
bent  on  our  obtaining  compensation  for  the  loss  of  the  drag. 
He  looked  somewhat  serious  as  I  entered ;  but  when  once  I 
made  him  laugh,  the  game  was  my  own.  I  wish  you  had 
seen  him  wiping  his  dear  old  eyes  as  I  described  the  covey 
of  gendarmes  taking  the  air.  However,  the  main  point  is, 
the  regiment  is  to  be  moved  up  to  Paris,  the  commissaire 
is  to  receive  a  reprimand,  our  claim  for  some  ten  thousand 
francs  is  to  be  considered,  and  I  am  to  dine  with  the  adju- 
tant to-day  and  tell  the  story  after  dinner." 

"  Do  you  know,  Phil,  I  have  a  theory  that  an  Irishman 
never  begins  to  prosper  but  just  at  the  moment  that  any 
one  else  would  surely  be  ruined." 

"  Don't  make  a  theory  of  it,  Jack,  for  it  may  turn  out  un- 
lucky. But  the  practice  is  pretty  much  what  you  represent 
it.  Fortune  never  treats  people  so  well  as  when  they 
don't  care  a  fig  about  her.  She 's  exactly  like  a  lady 
patroness,  —  confoundedly  impertinent,  if  you  '11  bear  it ; 
but  all  smiles,  if  you  won't.  Have  you  ever  met  Tom 
Burke,  — '  Burke  of  ours,'  as  they  call  him,  I  believe,  in 
half  the  regiments  in  the  service  ?  " 

"No,  never." 

"  Well,  the  loss  is  yours.  Tom  's  a  fine  fellow  in  his  way ; 
and  if  you  could  get  him  to  tell  you  his  story,  — or  rather 
one  of  his  stories,  for  his  life  is  a  succession  of  them,  — 
perhaps  you  would  find  that  this  same  theory  of  yours  has 
some  foundation.  We  '11  pick  him  up  one  of  these  days, 
and  I'll  introduce  you.  But  now,  Jack,  I  have  a  piece 
of  news  for  you.  What  do  you  think  of  it,  my  lad  ?  — 
Lady  Charlotte  Hinton  's  at  Paris." 

"  My  mother  here  ?     Is  it  possible  ?  " 


ST.  DENIS.  225 

"  Yes.  Her  Ladyship  resides  No.  4  Place  Vendome,  oppo- 
site the  Hotel  de  Londres.     There 's  accuracy  for  you." 

"  And  who  is  with  her  ?     My  father  ?  " 

"No.  'The  General  is  expected  in  a  few  days.  Lady 
Julia,  I  believe,  is  her  only  companion." 

There  was  a  kind  of  reserve  suddenly  in  O'Grady's  man- 
ner as  he  mentioned  this  name,  which  made  us  both  pause 
for  a  few  seconds.  At  length  he  broke  the  awkwardness 
of  the  silence  by  saying,  in  his  usual  laughing  way,  — 

"  I  contrived  to  pick  up  all  the  gossip  of  Paris  in  half  an 
hour.  The  town  is  full  of  English  —  and  such  English  too  ! 
The  Cossacks  are  civilized  people,  of  quiet,  retiring  habits, 
compared  to  them.  I  verily  believe  the  French  are  more 
frightened  by  our  conviviality  than  ever  they  were  by  the 
bayonets  of  the  allies.  I  'm  dying  to  hear  your  lady- 
mother's  account  of  everything  here." 

"  What  say  you,  then,  if  you  come  along  with  me  ?  I  'm 
becoming  very  impatient  to  see  my  people  once  more. 
Julia  will,  I  'in  certain,  be  very  amusing." 

"Ah,  and  I  have  a  debt  of  gratitude  in  that  quarter," 
said  O'G-rady,  hesitatingly.  "  Lady  Julia  was  so  very  kind 
as  to  extend  her  protection  to  that  old  villain  Corny.  I 
cannot  for  the  life  of  me  understand  how  she  endured 
him." 

"  As  to  that,"  said  I,  "  Julia  has  a  taste  for  character ; 
and  not  even  the  Chevalier  Delany's  eccentricity  would  pain 
her.     So  let 's  forward." 

"  Did  I  tell  you  that  De  Vere  is  here  ?  "  said  O'Grady. 

"No ;  not  with  my  friends,  I  trust  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  ascertained  that  he  does  not  visit  at 
Lady  Charlotte's.  He  is  attached  to  Lord  Cathcart's  em- 
bassy ;  he  's  very  little  in  society,  and  rarely  to  be  seen  but 
at  the  salon,  where  he  plays  tremendously  high,  loses  every 
night,  but  reappears  each  day  with  a  replenished  pocket. 
But  I  intend  to  know  the  secret  of  all  this,  and  of  many 
other  matters,  ere  long.     So  now  let  us  proceed." 

VOL.  II.  — 15 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PARIS    IN    1814. 

If  the  strange  medley  of  every  nation  and  costume  which 
we  beheld  on  entering  Paris  surprised  us,  how  much  greater 
was  our  astonishment  when,  having  finished  a  hurried  break- 
fast, we  issued  forth  into  the  crowded  streets  !  Here  were 
assembled  among  the  soldiers  of  every  country  visitors  from 
all  parts  of  Europe,  attracted  by  the  novel  spectacle  thus 
presented  to  them,  and  eager  to  participate  in  the  pleasures 
of  a  capital  whose  rejoicings,  so  far  from  being  checked  by 
the  sad  reverse  of  fortune,  were  now  at  the  highest  pitch ; 
and  the  city  much  more  resembled  the  gay  resort  of  an  elated 
people  than  a  town  occupied  by  the  troops  of  conquering 
enemies.  The  old  soldier  of  the  empire  alone  grieved  in 
the  midst  of  this  general  joy ;  with  the  downfall  of  Napo- 
leon died  his  every  hope.  The  spirit  of  conquest,  by  which 
for  so  many  years  the  army  had  been  intoxicated,  was  anni- 
hilated by  the  one  line  that  signed  the  treaty  of  Fontaine- 
bleau.  Thus  among  the  gay  and  laughing  groups  that 
hurried  onward  might  now  and  then  be  seen  some  veteran 
of  the  Old  Guard  scowling  with  contemptuous  look  upon 
that  fickle  populace,  as  eager  to  celebrate  the  downfall  as 
ever  they  had  been  to  greet  the  glory  of  their  nation. 

Nothing  more  strikingly  marked  the  incongruous  host  that 
filled  the  city  than  the  different  guards  of  honor  which  were 
mounted  at  the  several  hotels  where  officers  and  generals  of 
distinction  resided.  At  this  time  the  regulation  was  not  es- 
tablished which  prevailed  somewhat  later,  and  gave  to  the 
different  armies  of  the  allies  the  duty  of  mounting  all  the 
guards  in  rotation.  Thus  at  one  door  might  be  seen  the  tall 
cuirassier  of  Austria,  his  white  cloak  falling  in  heavy  folds 


PAKIS   IN   1814.  227 

over  the  flank  and  haunches  of  his  coal-black  horse,  looking 
like  some  Templar  of  old ;  at  another  the  plumed  bonnet 
of  a  Highlander  fluttered  in  the  breeze,  as  some  hardy  moun- 
taineer paced  to  and  fro,  his  gray  eye  and  stern  look  un- 
moved by  the  eager  and  prying  gaze  of  the  crowd  that 
stopped  to  look  upon  so  strange  and  singular  a  costume. 
Here  was  the  impatient  schimmel  of  some  Hungarian  hus- 
sar pawing  the  ground  with  restless  eagerness,  as  his  gay 
dolman  slashed  with  gold  glittered  in  the  sun.  The  jiiger 
from  Bohemia,  the  deadly  marksman  with  the  long  rifle,  the 
savage  Tartar  of  the  Ukraine  devouring  his  meal  on  his 
guard,  and  turning  his  dark  suspicious  eye  around  him,  lest 
every  passer-by  might  mean  some  treachery,  —  all  denoted 
that  some  representative  of  their  country  dwelt  within  ; 
while  every  now  and  then  the  clank  of  a  musket  would  be 
heard,  as  a  heavy  porte  cochere  opened  to  permit  the  passage 
of  an  equipage,  as  strange  and  as  characteristic  as  the  guard 
himself.  Here  would  issue  the  heavy  wagon  of  some  Ger- 
man prince,  with  emblazoned  panels  and  scarlet  hammer- 
cloth,  the  horses  as  fat  and  lethargic  as  the  smoking  and 
mustached  figure  they  were  drawing  ;  there  was  a  low 
droschki  of  a  Russian,  three  horses  abreast,  their  harness 
tinkling  with  brass  bells  as  the  spirited  animals  plunged 
and  curvetted  along.  The  quiet  and  elegant-looking  phae- 
ton of  English  build,  with  its  perfection  of  appointment, 
rolled  along  with  its  deep  woody  sound  beside  the  quaint, 
old-fashioned  caleche  of  Northern  Germany,  above  whose 
cumbrous  side-panels  only  the  heads  of  the  passengers  were 
visible.  Nor  were  the  horsemen  less  dissimilar;  the  stately 
Prussian,  with  his  heel  aplomb  beneath  his  elbow ;  the  Cos- 
sack, with  short  stirrups,  crouched  upon  his  horse's  mane ; 
the  English  horse-artilleryman  powdering  along  with  mas- 
sive accoutrements  and  gigantic  steed ;  the  Polish  light 
cavalry  soldier,  standing  high  in  his  stirrups,  and  turning 
his  restless  eye  on  every  side,  —  all  were  subjects  for  our 
curiosity  and  wonder. 

The  novelty  of  the  spectacle  seemed,  however,  to  have 
greatly  worn  off  for  the  Parisians,  who  rarely  noticed  the 


228  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

strange  and  uncouth  figures  that  every  moment  passed  be- 
fore their  eyes,  and  now  talked  away  as  unconcernedly  amid 
the  scene  of  tumult  and  confusion  as  though  nothing  new 
or  remarkable  was  going  on  about  them,  —  their  very  in- 
difference and  insouciance  one  of  the  strangest  sights  we 
witnessed. 

Our  progress,  which  at  the  first  was  a  slow  one,  ceased 
entirely  at  the  corner  of  the  palace,  where  a  considerable 
crowd  was  now  collected.  Although  we  asked  of  the  by- 
standers, no  one  could  tell  what  was  going  forward;  but  the 
incessant  roars  of  laughter  showed  that  something  droll  or 
ridiculous  had  occurred.  O'Grady,  whose  taste  in  such  mat- 
ters would  suffer  no  denial,  elbowed  his  way  through  the 
mob,  I  following  as  well  as  I  was  able.  When  we  reached 
the  first  rank  of  the  spectators,  we  certainly  needed  no  ex- 
planation of  the  circumstances  to  make  us  join  in  the  mirth 
about  us. 

It  was  a  single  combat  of  a  very  remarkable  description. 
A  tall  Cossack,  with  a  long  red  beard  now  waving  wildly  on 
every  side,  was  endeavoring  to  recover  his  mutcka  cap  from 
a  little  decrepit  old  fellow,  from  whom  he  had  stolen  a  bas- 
ket of  eggs.  The  eggs  were  all  broken  on  the  ground ;  and 
the  little  man  danced  among  them  like  an  infuriated  fiend, 
flourishing  a  stick  all  the  while  in  the  most  fearful  fashion. 
The  Cossack,  whose  hand  at  every  moment  sought  the  naked 
knife  that  was  stuck  in  his  girdle,  was  obliged  to  relinquish 
his  weapon  by  the  groans  of  the  mob,  who  unequivocally 
showed  that  they  would  not  permit  foul  play,  and  being 
thus  unarmed,  could  make  nothing  of  an  adversar}r  whose 
contemptible  appearance  caused  all  the  ridicule  of  the  scene. 
Meanwhile  the  little  fellow,  his  clothes  in  rags,  and  his  head 
surmounted  by  a  red  Cossack  mutcka,  capered  about  like 
nothing  human,  uttering  the  most  frightful  sounds  of  rage 
and  passion ;  at  length,  in  a  paroxysm  of  fury,  he  dealt  the 
tall  Cossack  a  rap  on  the  temples  which  made  him  reel  again. 
Scarcely  had  the  blow  descended,  when,  stung  by  the  insult 
and  the  jeers  of  the  mob,  the  enraged  savage  grasped  his 
knife ;  with  one  spring  he  pounced  upon  the  little  man ;  but 


PARIS  IN  1814.  229 

as  he  did  so  a  strong  hand  from  behind  seized  him  by  the 
collar,  and  with  one  tremendous  jerk  huiled  him  back  upon 
the  crowd,  where  he  fell  stunned  and  senseless. 

I  had  only  time  to  perceive  that  it  was  O'Grady  who  had 
come  to  the  rescue,  when  the  little  old  fellow,  turning 
fully  round,  looked  up  in  his  protector's  face,  and,  without 
evincing  any  emotion  of  surprise  or  wonder  or  even  of 
gratitude,  croaked  out,  — 

"  And  it 's  standin'  looking  on  ye  wor  all  the  time,  and  I 
fighting  my  sowle  out !  Ugh  !  bad  luck  to  service  !  Look 
at  my  coat  and  small-clothes  !  Ay,  you  might  laugh,  ye 
grinning  bastes  as  ye  are,  — and  a  basket  of  fresh  eggs  in 
smithereens,  and  this  Friday  !  " 

The  convulsions  of  laughter  which  this  apparition  and 
the  speech  excited  prevented  our  hearing  more.  The  mob, 
too,  without  understanding  a  word,  were  fully  sensible  of 
the  absurdity  of  the  scene,  and  a  perfect  chorus  of  laughter 
rang  through  the  street. 

"  And  my  elegant  beaver,  see  it  now  ! "  said  Corny  —  for 
we  hope  our  reader  recognizes  him — as  he  endeavored  to 
empty  the  batter  from  his  head-piece,  and  restore  it  to 
shape.  "  Ugh  !  the  Haythins !  the  Turks  !  see  now,  Mas- 
ter Phil,  it 's  warning  I  'm  giving  you  this  minit,  —  here, 
where  I  stand.  May  the  divil —  Ah,  if  ye  dare,  ye  eter- 
nal robber  ! "  This  elegant  exordium  was  directed  to  the 
poor  Cossack,  who,  having  regained  his  feet,  was  skulking 
away  from  the  field,  throwing  as  he  went  a  lingering  look 
at  his  red  cap,  which  Mister  Delany  still  wore  as  a  spoil  of 
his  victory. 

We  now  made  our  way  through  the  crowd,  followed  by 
Corny,  whose  angry  looks  on  every  side  elicited  peals  of 
laughter;  and  thus  accompanied  we  approached  the  mas- 
sive porte  cochere  of  a  large  hotel  in  the  Place  Vendome, 
where  a  Swiss,  in  full  costume  of  porter,  informed  us  that 
Lady  Charlotte  Hinton  resided.  While  I  endeavored  to 
pass  on,  he  interposed  his  burly  person,  informing  me,  in 
very  short  phrase,  that  her  Ladyship  did  not  receive  before 
four  o'clock. 


230  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Arrab,  hould  your  prate  !  "  cried  Corny ;  "  sure  it 's  the 
woman's  son  you  're  talking  to.  —  Two  pair  of  stairs  to 
your  left  hand,  and  the  first  doore  in  the  passage.  —  Look 
at  the  crowd  there,  the  lazy  craytures  !  that  has  nothing 
better  to  do  than  follow  a  respectable  man.  Be  off !  bad 
luck  to  yez  !  ye  ought  to  be  crying  over  the  disgrace  ye  're 
in.     Be  the  light  that  shines  !  but  you  desarved  it  well." 

Leaving  Corny  to  his  oration  before  the  mob,  of  which, 
happily  for  the  safety  of  his  own  skin,  they  did  not  com- 
prehend one  word,  I  took  the  direction  he  mentioned,  and 
soon  found  out  the  door,  on  which  a  visiting  card  with  my 
mother's  name  Avas  fastened. 

We  were  now  introduced  into  a  large  and  splendidly  fur- 
nished saloon,  with  all  that  lightness  and  elegance  of  deco- 
ration which  in  a  foreign  apartment  is  the  compensation  — 
a  poor  one  sometimes  —  for  the  more  comfortable  look  of 
our  English  houses.  The  room  was  empty,  but  the  morning 
papers  and  all  the  new  publications  of  the  day  were  scat- 
tered about  with  profusion.  Consigning  my  friend  for  a 
short  time  to  these,  I  followed  the  femme-de-chambre,  who 
had  already  brought  in  my  card  to  my  mother,  to  her  Lady- 
ship's dressing-room.  The  door  was  opened  noiselessly  Tjy 
the  maid,  who  whispered  my  name.  A  gentle  "Let  him 
come  in  "  followed,  and  I  entered. 

My  mother  was  seated  before  a  glass,  under  the  hands  of 
a  coiffeur,  and  dared  not  turn  her  head.  As  I  approached 
she  reached  me  her  hand,  however,  which  having  kissed 
dutifully,  I  drew  my  chair,  and  sat  down  beside  her. 
"  My  dear  boy ! "  said  she,  as  her  eyes  turned  towards  me, 
and  a  tear  fell  from  the  lid  and  trickled  down  her  cheek. 
In  spite  of  the  unnatural  coldness  of  such  a  meeting,  the 
words,  the  accents,  and  the  look  that  accompanied  them 
came  home  to  my  heart,  and  I  was  glad  to  hide  1113^  emotion 
by  again  pressing  my  lips  to  her  hand.  Having  kindly  in- 
formed me  that  the  ceremony  she  was  then  submitting  to 
was  imperative,  inasmuch  as  if  she  had  not  M.  Dejonconrt 
then  she  could  not  have  him  at  all,  — that  his  time  was  so 
filled  up,  every  moment  of  it,  from  eight  in  the  morning 


PARIS  IN  1814. 


231 


till  eleven  at  night,  that  the  Emperor  Alexander  himself 
could  n't  obtain  his  services,  if  he  wished  for  them,  —  she 
proceeded- to  give  me  some  details  of  my  father,  by  which 
I  could  learn  that  the  change  in  his  circumstances  had 
never  been  made  known  to  her,  and  that  she  had  gone  on 


since  we  last  met  in  her  old  career  of  extravagance  and 
expense,  the  indulgence  of  which,  and  the  cares  of  her  ever- 
declining  health,  having  given  her  abundant  occupation. 

As  I  looked  at  her  beautiful  features  and  delicately  fair 
complexion,  upon  which  time  had  scarcely  laid  a  touch,  I 
sighed  to  think  at  what  a  frightful  sacrifice  of  feeling,  of 
duty,  and  of  happiness,  too,  such  loveliness  had  been  pur- 
chased. If  the  fine  pencilling  of  that  brow  had  never  known 
a  wrinkle,  the  heart  had  never  throbbed  to  one  high  or  holy 
thought;  if  the  smile  sat  easily  on  the  lip,  it  was  the  habit- 
ual garb  of  fashionable  captivation,  and  not  the  indication 
of  one  kind  thought  or  one  affectionate  feelinsr.      I   felt 


232  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

shocked,  too,  that  I  could  thus  criticise  my  mother;  but  in 
truth  for  a  minute  or  two  I  forgot  she  was  such. 

"  And  Julia,"  said  I,  at  length,  —  "  what  of  her  ?  " 

"  Very  handsome  indeed,  —  strikingly  so.  Beulwitz,  the 
emperor's  aide-de-camp,  admires  her  immensely.  I  am  sin- 
cerely glad  that  you  are  come,  dear  John.  You  know  Julia's 
fortune  has  all  been  saved  :  but  of  that  another  time.  The 
first  point  now  is  to  secure  you  a  ticket  for  this  ball ;  and 
how  to  do  it,  I  'in  sure  I  know  not." 

"  My  dear  mother,  believe  me  I  have  not  the  slightest 
desire  —  " 

"  How  very  unkind  you  are  to  think  we  could  separate 
from  you  after  such  an  absence  !  Besides,  Julia  would  be 
seriously  offended,  and  I  think  with  cause.  But  the  ticket, — 
let 's  consider  about  that.  Dejoncourt,  is  it  true  that  the 
Princesse  de  Nassau  was  refused  a  card  for  the  ball  ?  " 

"Oui,  mi  ladi.  The  King  of  Prussia  has  sent  her  one  of 
his,  and  is  to  take  her;  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  St.  Bieve 
was  so  angry  at  being  left  out  that  she  tried  to  get  up  an 
alarm  of  conspiracy  in  the  faubourg,  to  prevent  the  sover- 
eigns from  going." 

"  But  they  will  go,  surely,  —  won't  they  ?  " 

"Ah,  to  be  sure.  Pardieu,  they  would  say  to-morrow 
that  they  had  been  omitted  too,  if  they  did  n't  appear." 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ?  "  said  her  Ladyship  with  energy. 
"  Grammont  can  be  of  no  use  here ;  for  unfortunately  these 
people  are  not  French." 

"  What  then,"  said  I,  "  is  it  some  of  the  crowned  heads 
who  are  the  entertainers  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  Indeed,  I  don't  know  who  they  are  ;  nor  do  I 
know  any  one  who  does.  The  only  fact  of  importance  is 
that  this  is  their  third  fete,  — the  first  two  were  the  most 
brilliant  things  ever  given  in  Paris ;  that  the  Emperor  of 
Bussia  always  dances  there ;  that  the  King  of  Prussia  makes 
his  whist  party  ;  that  Blucher  takes  the  head  of  one  of  the 
supper-tables ;  and,  in  a  word,  Talleyrand  himself  lias  em- 
ployed more  diplomacy  to  secure  an  extra  ticket  than  he 
has  often  dispensed  in  carving  out  a  new  monarchy." 


TARIS  IN   1814.  233 

My  mother  handed  me  a  splendidly  embossed  card,  as  she 
spoke,  upon  which,  in  letters  of  pale  burnished  gold,  were 
inscribed  the  following  words  :  "  Madame  de  Roni,  nee  Cas- 
sidy  de  Kilmainham,  prie  honneur,"  etc.  A  burst  of  laugh- 
ter at  the  absurdity  of  the  title  stopped  my  reading  further. 

"  She  's  an  Italian,  possibly,"  said  my  mother. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  I  replied  ;  "  the  '  nee  Cassidy  de 
Kilmainham'  smacks  of  something  nearer  home.  What 
think  you  of  Ireland  ?  " 

"  Ireland  !  Are  these  people  Irish  ?  "  said  she,  starting 
with  horror  at  the  thought.  "  I  trust,  my  dear  John,  you 
would  not  think  proper  to  jest  on  such  a  subject." 

"  My  dear  mother,  I  never  heard  of  them  before  ;  the 
only  thing  that  strikes  me  is  the  name.  'Cassidy'  is  as- 
suredly more  Milesian  than  Roman." 

"But  she  has  birth,  —  that's  certain,"  replied  my  mother, 
proudly. 

Not  caring  to  argue  the  point,  which  after  all  resolved 
itself  into  the  question  that  the  lady  was  the  child  of  some- 
body, and  that  somebody  was  called  "  Cassidy,"  I  began  to 
meditate  on  the  singularity  of  such  a  phase  in  life  as  the 
entertainer  of  sovereigns,  kaisers,  kings,  princes,  archdukes, 
and  ambassadors  being  a  person  utterly  unknown. 

"But  here  's  Grammont,"  said  my  mother,  as  a  gentle  tap 
was  heard  at  the  door  and  the  count  entered,  —  the  only 
change  in  his  appearance  since  last  I  saw  him  being  the 
addition  of  another  cordon  to  his  blue  coat,  and  a  certain 
springiness  in  his  walk,  which  I  afterwards  remarked  as 
common  among  all  the  returned  emigres  at  the  restoration. 

"  Que  diable  faut  il  faire,"  said  the  count,  entering,  "  with 
this  Madame  de  Roni  ?  She  refuses  all  the  world.  Ah, 
Jack,  mon  cher,  how  do  you  do  ?  —  safe  and  sound  from  all 
the  perils  of  these  terrible  French,  who  cut  you  all  to  pieces 
in  the  Peninsula  ?  But  only  think,  mi  ladi,  no  card  for  la 
Duchesse  de  Tavenne ;  Madame  de  Givry  left  out !  Sacristi I 
I  hope  there  is  nothing  against  ce  pauvre  Roi  de  Prusse." 

"Well,  and  here  is  John,"  said  my  mother;  "what  are 
we  to  do  about  him  ?  "  , 


234  JACK  HIXTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

My  renewed  disclaimer  of  any  wish  in  the  matter  was  cut 
short  by  a  look  of  reproof,  and  I  waited  the  whole  discus- 
sion with  patience. 

"  Never  was  there  such  a  difficulty,"  said  the  count,  mus- 
ing. "  There  is  certainly  nothing  to  be  done  through  the 
worthy  husband  of  Madame.  Dejoncourt  and  two  or  three 
more  gave  him  a  diner  en  gourmande  at  Very's,  to  seduce 
him ;  and  after  his  fifth  flask  of  champagne  he  frankly  con- 
fessed he  was  sorry  he  could  not  return  their  civilities  as  he 
wished.  '  I  '11  entertain  you  here,  and  have  Blucher  and 
Platoff,  Fouche,  and  any  one  else  you  lika  to  meet  you. 
I  '11  introduce  you  to  old  Prussia  and  the  Czar  whenever 
you  please;  you  shall  have  permission  to  shoot  at  Fontaine- 
bleau  any  day  you  mention ;  but  as  to  Madame  de  Roni, 
she  is  devilish  exclusive.  I  really  cannot  manage  that 
for  you.'" 

"I  wish  you  could  prevail  on  yourself  to  be  serious," 
said  my  mother,  in  nowise  pleased  with  the  jocular  spirit 
the  count's  anecdote  had  excited.  "  But  here  is  Julia,  — 
what  does  she  advise  ?  " 

As  my  mother  spoke,  the  door  opened,  and  my  cousin 
appeared.  Her  figure  had  more  of  the  roundness  of 
womanhood,  and  her  face  though  paler  was  fuller,  and  its 
expression  had  assumed  a  more  decided  character  than 
when  I  last  saw  her.  Her  winning  smile  and  her  graceful 
carriage  were  all  unchanged ;  and  her  low  soft  voice  never 
struck  me  as  more  fascinating  than  when  she  held  out  her 
hand  and  said,  — 

"My  dear  cousin,  how  happy  it  makes  me  to  see  you 
again ! " 

Her  dark  blue  eyes  were  tearful  as  she  spoke,  and  her 
lip  —  that  haughty  lip  —  trembled.  A  strange  wild  thrill 
crept  through  my  heart  as  I  pressed  her  hand  within  both 
of  mine,  —  a  vague  feeling  which  I  dared  not  suffer  to 
dwell  in  my  mind,  and  yet  feared  lest  when  it  should  de- 
part that  I  had  lost  my  chance  of  happiness.  Yes,  there 
are  times  when  a  man  without  the  admixture  of  any  cox- 
combry in  the  feeling,  without  a  particle  of  vanity,  —  nay, 


PARIS  IN  1814.  235 

with  a  deep  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  —  can  ask 
himself,  "  Does  this  woman  like  me  ? "  And  at  such 
moments,  if  his  own  heart  give  not  the  ready  answer,  it 
were  far  better  that  he  sought  not  the  reply  from  his 
reason. 

It  was  only  when  my  mother  asked  for  the  second  time, 
what  was  to  be  done  about  John's  ticket,  that  Julia  seemed 
aware  of  the  question,  —  a  slight,  a  very  slight,  curving  of 
her  lip  showing  the  while  the  sense  she  entertained  of  such 
an  inquiry  after  long  years  of  separation ;  and  at  last,  as  if 
unable  to  repress  the  indignation  of  the  moment,  she  said 
abruptly,  — 

"But,  of  course,  as  we  shall  not  think  of  going  to- 
night —  " 

"  We  not  go !  Eh,  pardieu !  why  not  ? "  said  the 
count. 

"  The  colonel  below  stairs  begs  to  say  that  he  will  call 
somewhat  later,"  said  the  femme-de-chambre  at  this 
juncture. 

"  The  colonel !     Whom  does  she  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  friend  O'Grady.  Poor  fellow  !  I  have  been 
forgetting  him  all  this  while.  So  allow  me  to  join  him,  and 
we  '11  wait  for  your  appearance  in  the  drawing-room." 

"  I  remember  him  perfectly,"  said  my  mother,  — "  an 
agreeable  person,  I  think.  So  take  Julia  and  the  count 
with  you,  and  I'll  follow  as  soon  as  I  can." 

Julia  blushed  deeply,  and  as  suddenly  grew  pale  again  as 
my  mother  spoke.  I  knew  that  she  had  always  treated  my 
friend  with  hauteur  and  reserve,  without  any  assignable 
reason,  and  had  long  determined  that  when  an  opportunity 
arose  I  would  endeavor  to  get  rid  of  the  unjust  impression 
she  had  somehow  conceived  of  my  warmest,  truest  friend. 
This  was  not,  however,  the  time  for  explanations;  and  I 
merely  said,  as  I  offered  my  arm, — 

"Poor  O'Grady  has  been  badly  wounded;  but  I  think 
he's  now  getting  on  favorably." 

She  said  something  in  reply,  but  the  words  were  lost  in 
the  noise  of  descending  the  stairs.     Just  as  we  reached  the 


236  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

landing  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  friend  issuing  from  the 
porte  cochere,  and  only  in  time  to  call  him  by  his  name,  — 

"  Holloa,  Phil !     Don't  go  away." 

As  he  turned  back  towards  the  drawing-room,  he  cried 
out,  — 

"It's  only  this  instant,  Jack,  I  remembered  how  very 
awkward  it  was  of  me  to  come  here  with  you  at  this  hour. 
You  have,  of  course,  so  much  to  say  and  hear  after  your 
absence  —  " 

The  sight  of  my  fair  cousin  cut  short  his  speech,  as  she 
stood  near  the  door  with  her  hand  out  to  receive  him.  As 
O'Grady  took  her  taper  fingers  within  his  own,  there  was 
an  air  of  cold  distance  in  his  manner  that  actually  offended 
me.  Bowing  deeply,  he  said  a  few  brief  words  in  a  tone  of 
gravity  and  stiffness  quite  unusual  with  him ;  and  then, 
turning  to  Grammont,  he  shook  the  count's  hand  with  a 
warmth  and  cordiality  most  markedly  different.  I  only 
dared  to  glance  at  Julia ;  but  as  I  did  so  I  could  mark  an 
expression  of  haughty  displeasure  that  settled  on  her  brow, 
while  her  heightened  color  made  her  turn  away  towards 
the  window. 

I  was  myself  so  much  annoyed  by  the  manner  in  which 
O'Grady  had  received  advances  which  I  had  never  seen 
made  to  any  one  before,  that  I  was  silent.  Even  Gram- 
mont saw  the  awkwardness  of  all  parties  so  much  in  need 
of  his  intervention  that  he  at  once  opened  the  whole  nego- 
tiation of  the  ball  to  O'Grady,  describing  with  a  French- 
man's volubility  and  sarcasm  the  stratagems  and  devices 
which  were  employed  to  obtain  invitations,  the  triumph  of 
the  successful,  the  despairing  malice  of  the  unfortunate,  — 
heightening  his  narrative  by  the  mystery  of  the  fair  hostess, 
who,  herself  unknown  and  unheard  of  till  now,  was  at  this 
moment  at  the  pinnacle  of  fashion,  dictating  the  laws  and 
distributing  the  honors  of  the  beau  monde  to  the  greatest 
sovereigns  of  Europe. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,  no  doubt  ?  "  asked  O'Grady. 

"  Oui,  pas  mal,"  said  Grammont,  with  that  all-explaining 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  by  which  a  foreigner  conveys  so 
much. 


PARIS   IN   1814.  237 

"  Very  rich,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Millionnaire ! "  said  the  Frenchman,  in  a  tone  of  ex- 
ultation that  bespoke  his  full  acquiescence  in  that  surmise 
at  least. 

"  And  her  rank  ?  " 

"  Ah,  I  don't  read  riddles.  All  I  know  is,  her  house  is 
the  best  thing  at  Paris;  she  has  secured  old  Cambaceres' 
chef  de  cuisine  ;  has  bought  up  the  groom  of  the  chambers 
of  the  ex-Emperor ;  keeps  an  estafette  going  on  the  Stras- 
bourg road  for  pates  de  fois  gras  ;  and  is  on  such  terms 
with  the  sovereigns  that  she  has  their  private  bands  to 
play  at  all  her  parties.     Que  voulez-vous  ! " 

"  Nothing  more,  indeed ! "  said  O'G-rady,  laughing. 
"  Such  admirable  supremacy  in  the  world  of  bon  ton  it 
would  be  rank  heresy  to  question  further,  and  I  no  longer 
wonder  at  the  active  canvass  for  her  invitations." 

"  Oui,  parbleu  !  "  said  the  Frenchman,  gayly.  "  If  Mon- 
sieur the  Comte  d'Artois  does  not  exert  himself,  people 
will  be  more  proud  of  a  ticket  to  these  balls  than  of  the 
Croix  de  St.  Louis.  For  my  own  part,  I  think  of  wearing 
mine  over  the  cordon." 

is  he  spoke,  he  flourished  his  card  of  invitation  in  the 
air,  and  displayed  it  in  his  bosom. 

••  Madame  de  Roni,  nee  Cassidy  de  Kilmainham,"  said 
0' Grady,  bursting  into  a  perfect  roar  of  laughter.  "  This 
is  glorious,  Jack  !     Did  you  see  this  ?  " 

"  See  !  eh  ?  to  be  sure  ;  and  what  then  ?  " 

But  0' Grady's  mirth  had  burst  all  bounds,  and  he  sat 
back  in  an  armchair  laughing  immoderately.  To  all  our 
questions  he  could  give  no  other  reply  than  renewed  bursts 
of  merriment,  which,  however  enjoyed  by  himself,  were 
very  provoking  to  us. 

"  He  knows  her,"  whispered  Grammont  in  my  ear  ;  "  be 
assured  he  knows  Madame." 

"  Jack,  where  shall  we  meet  in  half  an  hour  ?  "  said  Phil 
at  length,  jumping  up  and  wiping  his  eyes. 

"  Here,  if  you  like,"  said  I.  "  I  shall  not  leave  this  till 
you  return." 


238  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"Be  it  so,"said  he;  and  then  with  a  bow  to  my  cousin 
and  an  easy  nod  to  Grammont,  O'G-rady  took  his  hat  and 
departed. 

Grammont  now  looked  at  his  watch,  and  remembering 
some  half-dozen  very  important  appointments,  took  his 
leave  also,  leaving  me  once  more,  after  so  long  an  interval, 
tete-a-tete  with  Julia. 

There  were  so  many  things  to  talk  over  since  we  had 
met,  so  many  reminiscences  which  each  moment  called  up, 
that  I  never  thought  of  the  hours  as  they  ran  over ;  and  it 
was  only  by  Lady  Charlotte's  appearance  in  the  drawing- 
room  that  we  were  apprised  it  was  already  past  four 
o'clock,  and  that  the  tide  of  her  morning  visitors  would 
now  set  in,  and  break  up  all  hopes  of  continuing  our 
colloquy. 

"  Where  is  your  friend  ?  "  said  my  mother,  as  she  carried 
her  eyes  languidly  round  the  spacious  apartment. 

"  Gone  some  hours  ago ;  but  he  promised  to  take  me  up 
here.     We  shall  see  him  soon,  I  suspect." 

"  Colonel  O'Grady,"  said  a  servant ;  and  my  cousin  had 
just  time  to  leave  the  room  by  one  door  as  he  entered  by 
another. 

Advancing  to  my  mother  with  a  manner  of  respectful 
ease  which  he  possessed  in  perfection,  O'Grady  contrived 
in  a  few  brief  words  to  resume  the  ground  he  had  formerly 
occupied  in  her  acquaintance,  throwing  out  as  he  went  an 
occasional  compliment  to  her  looks,  so  naturally  and  unaf- 
fectedly done  as  not  to  need  acknowledgment  or  reply,  but 
yet  with  sufficient  empressement  to  show  interest. 

"  I  have  heard  since  my  arrival  that  you  were  interested 
about  this  ball,  and  took  the  opportunity  to  secure  you 
some  tickets,  which,  though  late,  some  of  your  friends  may 
care  for." 

He  presented  my  mother  as  he  spoke  with  several  blank 
cards  of  invitation,  who,  as  she  took  them,  could  not  con- 
ceal her  astonishment  nor  repress  the  look  of  curiosity, 
which  she  could  scarcely  repel  in  words,  as  to  how  he  had 
accomplished  a  task  the  highest  people  in  Paris  had  failed 


PARIS  IN  1814.  239 

m.  I  saw  what  was  passing  in  her  mind,  and  immediately- 
said,  — 

"  My  mother  would  like  to  know  your  secret  about  these 
same  cards,  O'Grady ;  for  they  have  been  a  perfect  subject 
of  contention  here  for  the  last  three  weeks." 

"  Her  Ladyship  must  excuse  me  —  at  least  for  the  pres- 
ent—  if  I  have  one  secret  I  cannot  communicate  to  her," 
said  O'Grady,  smiling.  "  Let  me  only  assure  her  that  no 
one  shall  know  it  before  she  herself  does." 

"  And  there  is  a  secret  ?  "  said  Lady  Charlotte,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  secret,"  replied  O'Grady,  with  a  most 
ludicrous  gravity  of  tone. 

"  Well,  at  least  we  have  profited  by  it,  and  so  we  may 
wait  in  patience4.  Your  friend  Colonel  O'Grady  will  give 
us  the  pleasure  of  his  company  at  dinner,  I  hope,"  con- 
tinued my  mother,  with  her  most  winning  smile. 

O'Grady  declined,  having  already  accepted  the  invitation 
of  the  adjutant-general,  but  begged  he  might  be  permitted 
to  join  our  party  at  the  ball,  —  which  being  graciously 
acceded  to  by  my  mother,  we  both  made  our  bows,  and 
sauntered  out  to  see  more  of  the  sights  of  Paris. 

"Come,  Phil,"  said  I,  when  we  were  once  more  alone, 
"  what  is  the  secret  ?     Who  is  Madame  de  Roni  ?  " 

"  Not  even  to  you,  Jack,"  was  his  answer,  and  we  walked 
on  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    R0NI    FETE. 

There  is  no  epidemic  more  catching  than  excitement. 
The  fussy  manner  and  feverish  bustle  of  the  people  about 
you  are  sure,  after  a  time,  to  communicate  themselves  to 
you,  — the  very  irritation  they  create  being  what  the  physi- 
cians call  a  predisposing  cause.  I  became  an  illustration 
in  point,  as  the  hour  of  this  ball  drew  nigh.  At  first  I 
could  not  but  wonder  how  in  the  midst  of  such  stupendous 
events  as  were  then  taking  place,  —  in  the  heart  of  a  city 
garrisoned  by  an  enemy,  with  everything  that  could  wound 
national  pride  and  offend  national  honor,  —  even  French 
levity  could  raise  itself  to  the  enjoyment  of  fashionable 
frivolity;  but  by  degrees  the  continual  recurrence  of  the 
subject  familiarized  my  mind  to  it,  wearing  off  my  first 
and  more  natural  impressions,  and  at  last  I  began,  like  my 
neighbors,  not  only  to  listen  with  patience,  but  even  to  join 
in  the  various  discussions  with  animation  and  interest. 

No  sooner  had  the  report  gained  currency  that  Lady 
Charlotte  was  in  possession  of  blank  invitations,  than  our 
hotel  was  beseiged  by  half  Paris,  —  the  unfortunate  en- 
deavoring, by  every  species  of  flattery  and  every  imagin- 
able stratagem,  to  obtain  tickets ;  the  lucky  ones  all  anxious 
to  find  out  the  mystery  of  her  Ladyship's  success,  which 
at  first  seemed  almost  incredible.  The  various  surmises, 
guesses,  hints,  allusions,  and  subterfuges  which  followed 
one  another  in  rapid  succession,  as  this  motley  mob  of 
fashionables  came  and  went,  and  went  and  came  again, 
amused  me  considerably,  —  the  more  so,  perhaps,  as  the 
occasion  called  into  full  play  all  my  cousin  Julia's  powers 
of  flippant  raillery  and  sarcasm,  both  of  which  she  exer- 


THE   RONI  FETE.  241 

cised  without  scruple,  but  uever  within  range  of  discovery 
by  any  of  her  victims. 

Everything  gave  way  to  the  convenience  of  this  splendid 
fete.  The  eight  o'clock  dinner  was  anticipated  by  full  two 
hours ;  no  other  subject  of  conversation  was  ever  broached 
by  the  company ;  and  at  nine  the  carriages  were  ordered  to 
the  door,  it  being  wisely  calculated  that  if  we  reached  our 
destination  at  eleven  we  should  esteem  ourselves  fortunate. 

How  often,  as  the  dashing  equipage  whirls  past  to  some 
scene  of  pleasure,  where  beauty  and  rank  and  riches  await 
the  sated  votary  of  fashion,  will  the  glare  of  the  carriage- 
lamps  fall  upon  the  gloomy  footway,  where,  wet  and  weary, 
some  melancholy  figure  steals  along  with  downcast  head  and 
plodding  step,  his  thoughts  turned  ever  to  some  accustomed 
scene  of  wretchedness,  where  want  and  misery,  disease,  neg- 
lect, decay,  all  herd  together,  and  not  even  hope  can  enter ! 
The  poor  man,  startled,  looks  up ;  the  rich  one,  lolling  back 
upon  his  easy  cushion,  casts  a  downward  glance :  their  eyes 
meet,  —  it  is  but  a  second ;  there  is  no  sympathy  between 
them,  —  the  course  of  one  lies  north,  the  other  south.  Thus 
at  each  moment  did  my  sad  heart  turn  away  from  all  the 
splendor  of  the  preparation  about  me,  to  wonder  with  my- 
self how  even  for  an  instant  I  could  forget  my  own  path  in 
life,  which,  opening  with  every  prospect  of  happiness,  yet 
now  offered  not  a  hope  for  the  future.  Between  these  two 
alternate  states  the  hours  crept  on.  As  I  sat  beside  Julia 
in  the  carriage,  I  could  not  but  mark  that  something  weighed 
also  on  her  spirits.  More  silent  than  usual,  she  replied, 
when  spoken  to,  with  effort;  and  more  than  once  returned 
wrong  answers  to  my  mother,  who  talked  away  unceasingly 
of  the  ball  and  the  guests. 

It  was  near  midnight  when  we  drove  into  the  large  arch- 
way of  the  Hotel  de  Rohan,  where  Madame  de  Roni  held 
her  court.  Brilliantly  lighted  with  lamps  of  various  colors, 
the  very  equipages  were  made  a  part  of  the  spectacle,  as 
they  shone  in  bright  and  changeful  hues,  reflected  from 
gorgeous  housings,  gilded  trappings,  and  costly  liveries.  A 
large,  dark-colored  travelling-carriage,  with  a  single  pair  of 

VOL.  II.  —  16 


242  JACK   HINTOX,    THE   GUARDSMAN. 

horses,  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  court,  the  only  thing  to 
distinguish  it  being  two  mounted  light  dragoons  who  waited 
beside  it,  and  a  chasseur  in  green  and  gold  uniform  who 
stood  at  the  door.  This  simple  equipage  belonged  to  the 
King  of  Prussia.  Around  on  every  side  were  splendidly 
appointed  carriages,  glittering  with  emblazonry  and  gilding, 
from  which,  as  the  guests  descended  and  entered  the  mar- 
ble vestibule,  names  of  European  celebrity  were  called  out 
and  repeated  from  voice  to  voice  along  the  lofty  corridors. 
Le  Prince  de  Schwartzenberg,  Count  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  Le 
Due  de  Dalberg,  Mi  Lord  Cathcart,  Le  Comte  de  Nessel- 
rode,  Monsieur  Talleyrand  de  Perigord,  with  others  equally 
noble  and  exalted,  followed  in  rapid  succession. 

Our  turn  came  at  last ;  and  as  we  reached  the  hall  we 
found  O'Grady  waiting  for  our  arrival. 

"  There 's  no  use  in  attempting  to  get  forward  for  some 
time,"  said  he  ;  "  so  follow  me,  and  I  '11  secure  you  a  more 
comfortable  place  to  wait  in." 

As  he  spoke  he  passed  through  the  hall,  and,  whispering 
a  few  words  to  a  servant,  a  door  was  opened  in  the  wainscot, 
admitting  us  to  a  small  and  neatly  fitted  up  library,  where 
a  good  fire  and  some  easy  chairs  awaited  us. 

"  I  see  your  surprise,"  said  O'Grady,  as  my  mother  looked 
about  her  with  astonishment  at  his  perfect  acquaintance 
with  the  whole  locality;  "but  I  can't  explain,  —  it's  part 
of  my  secret.  Meanwhile,  Jack,  I  have  another  for  your 
ear,"  said  he,  in  a  low  whisper,  as  he  drew  me  aside  into 
a  corner.  "I  have  made  a  very  singular  discovery,  Jack, 
to-day,  and  I  have  a  notion  it  may  lead  to  more.  I  met, 
by  accident,  at  the  adjutant-general's  table  the  brother  of 
a  French  officer  whose  life  1  saved  at  Xivelle ;  he  remem- 
bered my  name  in  a  moment,  and  we  became  sworn  friends. 
I  accepted  his  offer  of  a  seat  in  his  carriage  to  this  ball, 
and  on  the  way  he  informed  me  that  he  was  the  chief  of  the 
secret  police  of  Paris,  whose  business  it  is  to  watch  all  the 
doings  of  the  regular  police  and  report  upon  them  to 
Fouche,  whose  spies  are  in  every  salon  and  at  every  dinner- 
table  in  the  capital.     I  have  no  time  at  present  to  repeat 


THE  RONI   FETE.  243 

any  of  the  extraordinary  stories  he  told  me  of  this  horrible 
system ;  but  just  as  we  entered  the  courtyard  of  this  hotel, 
our  carriage  was  jammed  up  in  the  line  and  detained  for 
some  minutes.  Guillemain  suddenly  let  down  the  glass, 
and  gave  a  low,  peculiar  whistle,  which,  if  I  had  not  been 
paying  considerable  attention  to  everything  about  him, 
might  have  escaped  my  notice.  In  about  a  minute  after  a 
man  with  a  hat  slouched  over  his  face,  and  a  large  cravat 
covering  his  mouth,  approached  the  carriage.  They  con- 
versed together  for  some  time,  and  I  could  perceive  that 
the  new-comer  spoke  his  French  in  a  broken  manner  and 
with  a  foreign  accent.  By  a  slight  movement  of  the  horses 
one  of  the  lamps  threw  the  light  full  upon  this  man's 
face;  I  fixed  my  eyes  rapidly  on  him,  and  recognized  — 
whom,  think  you  ?  But  you  'd  never  guess  :  no  other  than 
your  old  antagonist,  Ulick  Burke ! " 

"  Ulick  Burke  !     You  must  have  been  mistaken." 

"  No,  no.  I  knew  him  at  once  ;  the  light  rested  on  him 
for  full  five  minutes,  and  I  had  time  enough  to  scan  every 
feature  of  his  face.  I  could  swear  to  the  man  now.  He 
left  us  at  last,  and  I  watched  him  till  he  disappeared  among 
the  crowd  of  servants  that  filled  the  courtyard." 

" '  That 's  one  of  your  people,'  said  I,  carelessly,  as  Guil- 
lemain drew  up  the  glass,  and  sat  back  in  the  carriage. 

"  '  Yes,  and  a  thorough  scoundrel  he  is,  —  capable  of 
anything.' 

"  '  He  's  not  French,'  said  I,  with  the  same  indifference  of 
manner  I  had  feigned  at  first. 

"  Guillemain  started  as  I  spoke ;  and  I  half  feared  I  had 
destroyed  all  by  venturing  too  much.  At  length,  after  a 
short  pause  he  replied,  '  You  're  right,  he 's  not  French  ; 
but  we  have  them  of  all  nations.  —  Poles,  Swedes,  Germans, 
Italians,  Greeks.     That  fellow  is  English.' 

" '  Say  Irish,  rather,'  said  I,  determining  to  risk  all,  to 
know  all. 

"  '  You  know  him,  then  ?  '  said  Guillemain,  hurriedly ; 
'  where  did  you  see  Fitzgerald  ? ' 

"  <  Fitzgerald ! '   said   I,  repeating   the  name  after  him ; 


244  JACK  HINTOX,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

and  then  affecting  disappointment,  added,  '  That 's  not  the 
name.' 

" '  Ha  !  I  knew  you  were  mistaken,'  said  Guillemain, 
with  animation ;  '  the  fellow  told  me  he  defies  recognition ; 
and  I  certainly  have  tried  him  often  among  his  country- 
men, and  he  has  never  been  detected.  And  yet  he  knows  the 
English  thoroughly  and  intimately.  It  was  through  him 
that  I  first  found  out  these  very  people  we  are  going  to.' 

"Here,  Jack,  he  entered  upon  a  long  account  of  our 
worthy  hosts,  who  with  great  wealth,  great  pretensions,  and 
as  great  vulgarity  came  to  Paris  some  weeks  ago  in  that 
mighty  flood  of  all  sorts  of  people  that  flocked  here  since 
the  peace.  Their  desire  to  be  ranked  among  the  fashionable 
entertainers  of  the  day  was  soon  reported  to  the  minister  of 
police,  who  after  considering  how  far  such  a  house  might  be 
useful,  where  persons  of  all  shades  of  political  opinion 
might  meet,  —  friends  of  the  Bourbons,  Jacobites,  Napole- 
onists,  the  men  of  '88,  and  the  admirers  of  the  old  regime,  — 
measures  were  accordingly  taken  that  their  invitations 
should  go  out  to  the  first  persons  in  Paris,  and,  more  still, 
should  be  accepted  by  them. 

"While  these  worthy  people  are  therefore  distributing 
their  hospitalities  with  all  the  good  faith  imaginable,  their 
hotel  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  cabinet  de  police, 
where  Fouche  and  his  agents  are  unravelling  the  intrigues 
of  Paris,  or  weaving  fresh  ones  for  their  own  objects." 

"  Infamous  system !  But  how  comes  it,  Phil,  that  they 
have  never  discovered  their  anomalous  position  ? " 

"  What  a  question,  Jack !  Vulgar  pretension  is  a  triple 
shield  that  no  eye  can  pierce ;  and  as  you  know  the 
parties  —  " 

"  Know  them !  no,  I  never  heard  of  them  before." 

"  What,  Jack !  Is  your  memory  so  short  lived  ?  And 
yet  there  was  a  pretty  girl  in  the  house  who  might  have 
rested  longer  in  your  memory." 

The  announcement  of  Lady  Charlotte  and  my  cousin's 
names  by  the  servant  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  broke  up  our 
conference ;  and  we  had  only  time  io  join  our  party  as  we 


THE   RONI   FETE.  245 

fell  into  that  closely  wedged  phalanx  that  wound  its  slow 
length  up  the  spacious  staircase.  O'Grady's  last  words  had 
excited  my  curiosity  to  the  highest  pitch ;  but  as  he  pre- 
ceded me  with  my  mother  on  his  arm,  I  was  unable  to  ask 
for  an  explanation. 

At  last  we  reached  the  antechamber,  from  which  a  vista 
of  salons  suddenly  broke  upon  the  view ;  and  although  an- 
ticipating much,  I  had  formed  no  conception  whatever  of 
the  splendor  of  the  scene  before  me.  More  brilliant  than 
noonday  itself,  the  room  was  a  blaze  of  waxlights ;  the  ceil- 
ings of  fretted  gold  and  blue  enamel  glittered  like  a  gorge- 
ous firmament;  the  walls  were  covered  with  pictures  in 
costly  frames  of  Venetian  taste.  But  the  decorations,  mag- 
nificent and  princely  as  they  were,  were  as  nothing  to  that 
splendid  crowd  of  jewelled  dames  and  glittering  nobles,  of 
all  that  was  distinguished  in  beauty,  in  rank,  in  military 
glory,  or  in  the  great  contest  of  political  life.  Here  were 
the  greatest  names  of  Europe,  —  the  kings  and  princes  of 
the  earth,  the  leaders  of  mighty  armies,  the  generals  of  a 
hundred  battles ;  here  was  the  collective  greatness  of  the 
world,  all  that  can  influence  mankind,  —  hereditary  rank, 
military  power,  stupendous  intellect,  beauty,  wealth,  —  mix- 
ing in  the  vast  vortex  of  fashionable  dissipation,  and  plun- 
ging into  all  the  excesses  of  voluptuous  pleasure.  The  band 
of  the  Imperial  Guard  stationed  near  the  staircase  were 
playing  with  all  the  delicious  softness  of  their  national 
instrument  —  the  Russian  horn  —  a  favorite  mazurka  of 
the  emperor  as  we  entered;  and  a  partial  silence  reigned 
among  the  hundred  listeners. 

O'Grady  conveyed  my  mother  through  the  crowd  to  a 
seat,  where,  having  placed  my  cousin  beside  her,  he  once 
more  came  near  me. 

"Jack,"  whispered  he,  "come  a  little  this  way."  He 
drew  aside  a  curtain  as  he  spoke,  and  we  entered  a  boudoir, 
where  a  buffet  of  refreshments  was  placed.  Here  the 
scene  was  ludicrous  in  the  extreme,  from  the  incongruous 
mixture  of  persons  of  so  many  nations  and  languages  who 
were  chatting  away  and  hobnobbing  to  one  another  in  all 


246  JACK  HIXTOX,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

the  dismembered  phrases  of  every  tongue  in  Europe  ;  roars 
of  laughter,  however,  poured  from  one  corner  of  the  room, 
whither  O'G-rady  directed  his  steps,  still  holding  my  arm. 
A  group  of  Cossack  officers  in  full  scarlet  costume,  their 
loose  trousers  slashed  with  gold  embroidery  and  thrust  into 
wide  boots  of  yellow  leather,  stood  in  a  circle  round  a  per- 
son whom  we  could  not  yet  perceive,  but  who,  we  were 
enabled  to  discover,  was  exercising  his  powers  of  amuse- 
ment for  this  semi-savage  audience,  whose  wild  shouts  of 
laughter  broke  forth  at  every  moment.  We  made  our  way 
at  length  through  the  crowd,  and  my  eyes  at  last  fell  upon 
the  figure  within.  I  stared  !  I  rubbed  my  eyes  !  I  actually 
began  to  doubt  my  very  senses,  when  suddenly  turning  his 
joyous  face  beaming  with  good  humor  towards  me,  he  held 
forth  his  hand  and  called  out,  "  Captain,  my  darling,  the 
top  of  the  morning  to  you.  This  beats  Stephen's  Green, 
does  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Paul  Rooney,"  said  I. 

"  No,  no  !  Monsieur  de  Roni,  if  you  please,"  said  he, 
again  breaking  out  into  a  fit  of  laughing.  "  Lord  help  you, 
man,  I  've  been  christened  since  I  came  abroad.  Let  me 
present  you  to  my  friends."  Here  Paul  poked  a  tall  Cos- 
sack in  the  ribs  to  attract  his  attention,  and  then  point- 
ing to  me,  said,  "  This  is  Captain  Hinton ;  his  name 's  a 
poser,  —  a  cross  between  chincough  and  a  house-key.  Eh, 
old  fellow  ?  " 

A  Tartar  grin  was  the  reply  to  this  very  intelligible 
speech ;  but  a  bumper  of  champagne  made  everything  com- 
prehensible between  them.  Mr.  Eooney's  hilarity  soon 
showed  me  that  he  had  not  forgotten  his  native  habits,  and 
was  steadily  bent  upon  drinking  glass  for  glass  with  his 
company,  even  though  they  only  came  in  detachments. 
"With  Bashkir  chiefs,  Pomeranian  barons,  Rhine  graafs, 
and  Polish  counts  he  seemed  as  intimate  as  though  he  had 
passed  as  much  of  his  time  in  the  Caucasus  as  the  Four 
Courts,  and  was  as  familiar  with  the  banks  of  the  Don  as 
ever  he  had  been  with  those  of  the  Dodder. 

"  And  is  it  really  our  old  friend  Mrs.  Paul  who  enter- 
tains this  host  of  czars  and  princes  ?  " 


THE   RONI  FETE.  247 

"  Is  it  really  only  now  that  you  've  guessed  it  ?  "  said 
O'Grady,  as  he  carried  me  away  with  him  through  the 
salon.  "But  I  see  Lady  Charlotte  is  amongst  her  friends, 
and  your  cousin  is  dancing ;  so  now  let 's  make  the  most  of 
our  time.  I  say,  Jack,  your  lady-mother  scarcely  supposes 
that  her  host  is  the  same  person  she  once  called  on  for  his 
bill.  By  Jove,  what  a  discovery  it  would  be  to  her !  and 
the  little  girl  she  had  such  a  horror  of  is  now  the  belle  of 
Paris.  You  remember  Louisa  Belle w,  don't  you  ?  Seven 
thousand  a  year,  my  boy,  and  beauty  worth  double  the 
money.     But  there  she  is,  and  how  handsome ! " 

As  he  spoke,  a  lady  passed  us  leaning  on  her  partner's 
arm,  her  head  turned  slightly  over  her  shoulder.  I  caught 
but  one  glance,  and  as  I  did  so,  the  rushing  torrent  of  blood 
that  mounted  to  my  face  made  my  very  brain  grow  dizzy. 
I  knew  not  where  I  stood.  I  sprang  forward  to  speak  to 
her,  and  then  became  rooted  to  the  ground.  It  was  she, 
indeed,  beautiful  as  ever  I  had  seen  her ;  her  pale  face 
wore  the  very  look  I  had  last  seen  the  night  I  saved  her 
from  the  flood. 

"  Did  you  observe  her  companion  ?  "  said  O'Grady,  who 
fortunately  had  not  noticed  my  confusion.  "  It  was  De 
Vere.  I  knew  he  was  here;  and  I  suspect  I  see  his 
plans." 

"  De  Vere  ! "  said  I,  starting.  "  De  Vere  with  Miss 
Bellew  !     Are  you  certain  ?  " 

"  Quite  certain ;  I  seldom  mistake  a  face,  and  his  I 
can't  forget.  But  here  's  Guillemain.  I  '11  join  you  in  a 
moment." 

So  saying,  O'Grady  left  my  side,  and  I  saw  him  take  the 
arm  of  a  small  man  in  black,  who  was  standing  at  a  door- 
way. The  rush  of  sensations  that  crowded  on  me  as  I 
stood  there  alone  made  me  forget  the  time,  and  I  knew  not 
that  O'Grady  had  been  above  half-an-hour  away  when  he 
again  came  to  my  side. 

"How  the  plot  thickens,  Hinton!"  said  he,  in  a  low- 
whisper.  "  Only  think,  the  villain  Burke  has  actually 
made  the  hand  and  fortune  of  that  lovely  girl  the  price  of 


248  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

obtaining  secret  information  from  De  Vere  of  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  British  embassy.  Guillemain  did  not  confess 
this  to  me  ;  but  he  spoke  in  such  a  way,  that,  with  my 
knowledge  of  all  the  parties,  I  made  out  the  clew." 

"  Burke  !  but  what  influence  has  he  over  her  ?  " 

"  None  over  her,  but  much  over  the  Rooneys,  whom,  in- 
dependent of  threats  about  exposing  their  real  condition  in 
life,  he  has  persuaded  that  such  a  marriage  for  their  ward 
secures  them  in  fashionable  society  forever.  This  with 
Paul  would  do  nothing ;  but  Madame  de  Roni,  as  you  know, 
sets  a  high  price  on  such  a  treasure.  Besides,  he  is  in  pos- 
session of  some  family  secret  about  her  mother,  which  he 
uses  as  a  means  of  intimidation  to  Paul,  who  would  rather 
die  than  hurt  Miss  Bellew's  feelings.  Now,  Jack,  De  Vere 
only  wants  intellect  to  be  as  great  a  scoundrel  as  Master 
Ulick  ;  so  we  must  rescue  this  poor  girl,  come  what  will." 

"  We  must  and  we  will,"  said  I,  with  a  tone  of  eagerness 
that  made  O'Grady  start. 

"  Not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost,"  said  he,  after  a  brief  pause. 
"  I  '11  try  what  can  be  done  with  Guillemain." 

An  opening  of  the  crowd  as  he  spoke  compelled  us  to  fall 
back,  and  as  we  did  so  I  could  perceive  that  an  avenue  was 
made  along  the  room. 

"  One  of  the  sovereigns,"  whispered  O'Grady. 

I  leaned  forward,  and  perceived  two  aides-de-camp  in 
green  uniform,  who  were  retreating  step  by  step  slowly 
before  some  persons  farther  back. 

"The  Emperor  of  Russia,"  whispered  a  voice  near  me; 
and  the  same  instant  I  saw  the  tall  and  fine-looking  figure 
of  Alexander,  his  broad  massive  forehead,  and  frank  manly 
face  turning  from  side  to  side  as  he  acknowledged  the  salu- 
tations of  the  room.  On  his  arm  he  supported  a  lady,  whose 
nodding  plumes  waved  in  concert  with  every  inclination 
of  the  czar  himself.  Curious  to  see  what  royal  personage 
shared  thus  with  him  the  homage  of  the  assembly,  I  stooped 
to  catch  a  glance.  The  lady  turned,  —  our  eyes  met ;  a  slight 
flush  colored  her  cheek  as  she  quickly  moved  her  head  away. 
It  was  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney  herself !     Yes,  she  whom  I  had 


THE   RONI   FfiTE.  249 

once  seen  with  an  effort  subdue  her  pride  of  station  when 
led  in  to  dinner  by  some  Irish  attorney-general,  or  some 
going  judge  of  assize,  now  leaned  on  the  arm  of  an  emperor, 
and  divided  with  him  the  honors  of  the  moment ! 

While  O'Grady  sought  out  his  new  friend,  the  minister  of 
police,  I  went  in  search  of  my  mother  and  Lady  Julia,  whom 
I  found  surrounded  by  a  knot  of  their  own  acquaintances, 
actively  engaged  in  surmises  as  to  the  lady  of  the  house, — 
her  rank,  fortune,  and  pretensions.  For  some  time  I  could 
not  but  feel  amused  at  the  absurd  assertions  of  many  of  the 
party,  who  affected  to  know  all  about  Madame  de  Roni  and 
her  secret  mission  at  Paris. 

"  My  dear  John,"  said  my  mother  in  a  whisper,  "  you 
must  find  out  all  about  her.  Your  friend,  the  colonel,  is 
evidently  in  the  secret.  Pray,  now,  don't  forget  it.  But 
really  you  seem  in  a  dream.  There 's  Beulwitz  paying 
Julia  all  the  attention  imaginable  the  entire  evening,  and 
you  've  never  gone  near  her.  Apropos,  have  you  seen  this 
ward  of  Madame  de  Roni  ?  She  is  very  pretty,  and  they 
speak  of  her  as  a  very  suitable  person."  (This  phrase  was 
a  kind  of  cant  with  my  mother  and  her  set,  which  expressed 
in  brief  that  a  lady  was  enormously  rich  and  a  very  desir- 
able match  for  a  man  with  nothing.)    "  I  forget  her  name." 

"  Miss  Bellew,  perhaps,"  said  I,  trembling  lest  any 
recollection  of  ever  having  heard  it  before  should  cross 
her  mind. 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  name ;  somehow  it  seems  familiar  to 
me.  Do  you  know  her  yet,  for  my  friend  Lady  Middle- 
ton  knows  every  one,  and  will  introduce  you?" 

"  Oh,  I  have  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with  her 
already,"  said  I,  turning  away  to  hide  my  confusion. 

"That's  quite  proper,"  said  her  Ladyship,  encourag- 
ingly. "  But  here  she  comes  ;  I  think  you  must  introduce 
me,  John." 

As  my  mother  spoke,  Louisa  Bellew  came  up,  leaning  on 
a  lady's  arm.  A  moment's  hesitation  on  my  part  would 
have  only  augmented  the  embarrassment  which  increased 
at  every  instant ;  so  I  stepped  forward  and  pronounced  her 


250  JACK  HLNTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

name.  No  sooner  had  the  words  "  Miss  Bellew  "  escaped 
my  lips  than  she  turned  round ;  her  large  full  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  me  doubtingly  for  a  second,  and  her  face  grew 
deep  scarlet,  and  then  as  suddenly  pale  again.  She  made 
an  effort  to  speak,  but  could  not ;  a  tottering  weakness 
seemed  to  creep  over  her  frame,  and  as  she  pressed  her 
companion's  arm  closely  I  heard  her  mutter,  — 
"  Oh,  pray  move  on  !  " 

"  Lady  Charlotte  Hinton  —  Miss  Bellew,"  said  the  lady 
at  her  side,  who  had  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  Louisa 
Bellew's  agitated  manner. 

My  mother  smiled  in  her  sweetest  manner ;  while  Miss 
Bellew's  acknowledgments  were  made  with  the  most  dis- 
tant coldness. 

"My  son  had  deemed  himself  fortunate  enough  to  be 
known  to  you,"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 

Miss  Bellew  became  pale  as  death ;  her  very  lips  were 
bloodless,  as  with  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  she 
replied,  — 

"  We  were  acquainted  once,  Madam  ;  but —  " 
What  was  to  be  the  remainder  of  the  speech  I  know  not ; 
for  as  the  crowd  moved  on  she  passed  with  it,  leaving  me 
like  one  whose  senses  were  forsaking  him  one  by  one.  I 
could  only  hear  my  mother  say,  "  How  very  impertinent ! " 
and  then  my  brain  became  a  chaos.  A  kind  of  wild  reck- 
less feeling,  the  savage  longing  that  in  moments  of  dark 
passion  stirs  within  a  man  for  some  act  of  cruelty,  some 
deed  of  vengeance,  ran  through  my  breast.  I  had  been 
spurned,  despised,  disowned  by  her  of  whom  through  many 
a  weary  month  my  heart  alone  was  full.  I  hurried  away 
from  the  spot,  my  brain  on  fire.  I  saw  nothing,  I  heeded 
nothing,  of  the  bright  looks  and  laughing  faces  that  passed 
me ;  scornful  pity  and  contempt  for  one  so  low  as  I  was 
seemed  to  prevail  in  every  face  I  looked  at.  A  strange  im- 
pulse to  seek  out  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  was  uppermost  in 
my  mind ;  and  as  I  turned  on  every  side  to  find  him,  I  felt 
my  arm  grasped  tightly,  and  heard  O'Grady's  voice  in  my 
ear,  — 


THE   RONI   FETE.  251 

"  Be  calm,  Jack,  for  Heaven's  sake !  Your  disturbed 
looks  make  every  one  stare  at  you." 

He  dvew  me  along  with  him  through  the  crowd,  and  at 
length  reached  a  card-room,  where,  except  the  players,  no 
one  was  present. 

"  Come,  my  dear  boy,  I  saw  what  has  annoyed  you." 

"  You  saw  it ! "  said  I,  my  eyeballs  straining  as  I  spoke. 

"Yes,  yes;  and  what  signifies  it?  So  very  handsome  a 
girl,  and  the  expectation  of  a  large  fortune,  must  always 
have  followers.     But  you  know  Lady  Julia  well  enough —  " 

"  Lady  Julia !  "  repeated  I,  in  amazement. 

"  Yes.  I  say  you  know  her  well  enough  to  believe  that 
Beulwitz  is  not  exactly  the  person —  " 

A  burst  of  laughter  at  his  mistake  broke  from  me  at  the 
moment ;  but  so  wild  and  discordant  was  it  that  O'Grady 
misconstrued  its  meaning,  and  went  at  some  length  to 
assure  me  that  my  cousin's  affection  for  me  was  beyond 
my  suspicion. 

Stunned  by  my  own  overwhelming  sorrow,  I  felt  no  in- 
clination to  undeceive  him,  and  let  him  persist  in  his  error 
without  even  a  word  of  reply. 

"  Kouse  yourself,  Jack,"  said  he,  at  length.  "  This  de- 
pression is  unworthy  of  you,  had  you  even  cause  for  grief. 
There  's  many  a  heart  heavier  than  your  own,  my  boy, 
where  the  lip  is  smiling  this  minute." 

There  was  a  tone  of  deep  affliction  in  the  cadence  of  his 
voice  as  these  words  fell  from  him,  and  he  turned  away 
his  head  as  he  spoke.  Then  rallying  in  an  instant,  he 
added,  — 

"  Do  you  know,  our  dear  friend  Mrs.  Paul  has  scarcely 
ventured  to  acknowledge  me  to-night ;  and  I  feel  a  kind  of 
devilish  spirit  of  vengeance  working  within  me  in  conse- 
quence. To  cut  me !  —  I  that  trained  her  infant  mind  to 
greatness ;  that  actually  smuggled  for  her  a  contraband 
viceroy,  and  brought  him  alive  into  her  dominions  !  What 
dire  ingratitude  !     Come,  what  say  you  to  champagne  ?  " 

He  poured  me  out  a  large  glassful  as  he  spoke,  and,  fill- 
ing his  own,  called  out,  laughing,  — 


252  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

"  Here,  I  give  yuu  a  toast,  —  <  La  Vendetta ! '  eh,  Jack  ? 
Corsican  vengeance  on  all  who  maltreat  us  ! " 

Glass  after  glass  followed ;  and  I  felt  my  brain;  instead 
of  being  excited,  grow  calmer,  steadier ;  a  firm  and  deter- 
mined resolution  usurped  the  flitting  thoughts  and  wander- 
ing fancies  of  before. 

"They're  moving  towards  the  supper-room,"  said  O'Grady, 
who  for  some  time  past  had  talked  away,  without  my  pay- 
ing any  attention  to  what  he  said. 

As  we  descended  the  stairs,  I  heard  my  mother's  car- 
riage announced,  and  could  just  see  her  and  my  cousin 
handed  to  it  by  some  Austrian  officers  as  we  entered  the 
supper-room. 

The  incessant  crash  and  din  of  the  enormous  banquet- 
ing-room,  its  crowd  and  heat,  its  gorgeous  table-equipage 
and  splendid  guests,  were  scarce  noticed  by  me  as  I  fol- 
lowed O'Grady  half  mechanically  towards  the  end  of  the 
room.  For  some  time  I  remained  stupidly  unconscious  of 
all  around  ;  and  it  was  only  after  a  very  considerable  time 
that  I  descried  that  immediately  in  front  of  where  we 
stood  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney  was  seated,  —  the  Emperor  of 
Russia  on  her  right,  the  King  of  Prussia  on  her  left  hand ; 
Swartzenburg,  Blucher,  Talleyrand,  Nesselrode,  and  many 
others  equally  distinguished  occupying  places  along  the 
board.  Her  jocund  laugh  and  merry  voice,  indeed,  first 
attracted  my  attention. 

"  By  Jove !  she  does  it  admirably,"  said  O'Grady,  who 
for  full  five  minutes  had  been  most  critically  employed 
scrutinizing  Mrs.  Paul's  manner.  "Do  you  remark  the 
tact  with  which  she  graduates  her  attentions  to  the  em- 
peror and  the  king?  And  look  at  the  hauteur  of  her 
bearing  to  old  Blucher  !     But,  hush  !  what 's  coming  ?  " 

A  kind  of  suppressed  murmur  buzzed  along  the  crowded 
room,  which  subsiding  into  a  dead  silence,  the  Emperor 
Alexander  rose,  and  addressing  the  guests  in  a  few  but 
well-chosen  words  in  English,  informed  them  he  had  re- 
ceived permission  from  their  amiable  and  captivating  host- 
ess to  propose  a  toast,  and  he  took  the  opportunity  with 


THE  RONI  FETE.  253 

unqualified  delight  to  give  the  health  of  "  the  Prince 
Regent."  A  perfect  thunder  of  applause  acknowledged 
this  piece'of  gracious  courtesy,  and  a  "  hip  !  hip  !  hurra  !  " 
which  astonished  the  foreigners,  shook  the  very  roof. 
While  the  deafening  shouts  rose  on  every  side,  Mrs.  Paul 
wrote  a  line  with  her  pencil  hastily  on  her  card,  and  turn- 
ing round  gave  it  to  a  Cossack  aide-de-camp  of  the  emperor 
to  deliver  into  Mr.  Rooney's  hands.  Either  from  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  or  his  imperfect  acquaintance  with 
English,  the  unlucky  Cossack  turned  towards  the  first 
British  officer  near  him  for  an  explanation,  who  happened 
to  be  O'Grady. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  said  he  in  French. 

"Ah,"  said  Phil,  looking  at  it,  "this  is  intended  for  that 
gentleman  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  You  see  him  yonder,  — 
he 's  laughing  now.  Come  along,  I  '11  pilot  you  towards 
him." 

Suspecting  that  O'Grady's  politeness  had  some  deeper 
motive  than  mere  civility,  I  leaned  over  his  shoulder  and 
asked  the  reason  of  it. 

"  Look  here,"  said  he,  showing  me  the  card  as  he  spoke, 
on  which  was  written  the  following  words  :  "  Make  the 
band  play  'God  Save  the  King;'  the  emperor  wishes  it." 

"  Come  with  us,  Jack,"  whispered  O'Grady ;  "  we  had 
better  keep  near  the  door." 

I  followed  them  through  the  dense  crowd,  who  were  still 
cheering  with  all  their  might,  and  at  last  reached  the  end 
of  the  table,  where  Paul  himself  was  amusing  a  select  party 
of  Tartar  chiefs,  Prussian  colonels,  Irish  captains,  and  Hun- 
garian nobles. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Phil,  showing  me  the  card,  which  in 
his  passage  down  the  room  he  had  contrived  to  alter,  by 
rubbing  out  the  first  part  and  interpolating  a  passage  of  his 
own  ;  making  the  whole  run  thus,  — 

"  Sing  the  '  Cruiskeen  Lawn  ; '  the  emperor  wishes  it." 

I  had  scarcely  time  to  thrust  my  handkerchief  to  my 
mouth  and  prevent  an  outbreak  of  laughter,  when  I  saw  the 
Cossack  officer  present  the  card  to  Paul  with  a  deep  bow. 


254  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

Mr.  Kooney  read  it,  —  surveyed  the  bearer;  read  it  again,  — 
rubbed  his  eyes,  drew  over  a  branch  of  wax  candles  to  in- 
spect it  better,  and  then  directing  a  look  to  the  opposite  ex- 
tremity of  the  table  exchanged  glances  with  his  spouse,  as 
if  interrogating  her  intentions  once  more.  A  quick,  sharp 
nod  from  Mrs.  Paul  decided  the  question  thus  tacitly  asked ; 
and  Paul,  clearing  off  a  tumbler  of  sherry,  muttered  to  him- 
self, "What  the  devil  put  the  'Cruiskeen  Lawn'  into  his 
Majesty's  head  I  can't  think;  but  I  suppose  there's  no 
refusing." 

A  very  spirited  tapping  with  the  handle  of  his  knife  was 
now  heard  to  mix  with  the  other  convivial  sounds,  and  soon 
indeed  to  overtop  them,  as  Paul,  anxious  to  fulfil  a  royal 
behest,  cleared  his  throat  a  couple  of  times,  and  called  out, 
"  I  '11  do  the  best  I  can,  your  Majesty  ;  "  and  at  once  struck 

up,— 

"  Let  the  farmer  praise  his  grounds, 
Let  the  huntsman  praise  Ins  hounds, 

And  talk  of  the  deeds  they  have  done ; 
But  I  more  blest  than  they  —  " 

Here  Paul  quavered,  and  at  last  the  pent-up  mirth  of  the 
whole  room  could  endure  no  more,  but  burst  forth  into  one 
continuous  shout  of  laughter,  in  which  kings,  dukes,  ambas- 
sadors, and  field-marshals  joined  as  loudly  as  their  neigh- 
bors. To  hear  the  song  was  utterly  impossible  ;  and  though 
from  Mr.  Paul's  expanded  cheeks  and  violent  gesticulation 
it  was  evident  he  was  in  full  chant,  nothing  could  be  heard 
save  the  scream  of  laughing  which  shook  the  building,  — 
an  emotion  certainly  not  the  less  difficult  to  repress,  as 
Mrs.  Paul,  shaking  her  hand  at  him  with  passionate  energy, 
called  out,  — 

"  Oh,  the  baste  !  he  thinks  he  's  on  circuit  this  minnit !  " 
As  for  myself,  half-choking  and  with  sore  sides,  I  never 
recovered  till  I  reached  the  street,  when  O'Grady  dragged 
me  along,  sajung  as  he  did  so,  — 

"  We  must  reach  home  at  once.  Nothing  but  a  strong 
alibi  will  save  my  character  for  this  in  the  morning." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


FRESCATl's. 


I  was  uot  sorry  when  I  heard  the  following  morning  that 
my  mother  would  not  appear  before  dinner-hour.  I  dreaded 
the  chance  of  any  allusion  to  Miss  Bellew's  name  requiring 
explanation  on  my  part ;  and  the  more  so,  as  I  myself  was 
utterly  lost  in  conjectures  as  to  the  reason  of  her  singular 
/•eception  of  me. 

Julia,  too,  appeared  more  out  of  spirits  than  usual.  She 
pleaded  fatigue ;  but  I  could  see  that  something  lay  heavily 
on  her  mind.  She  conversed  with  evident  effort,  and 
seemed  to  have  a  difficulty  in  recalling  her  faculties  to  the 
ordinary  topics  of  the  day.  A  thought  struck  me  that  per- 
haps De  Vere's  conduct  might  have  given  cause  for  her 
depression ;  and  gradually  I  drew  the  conversation  to  the 
mention  of  his  name,  when  I  soon  became  undeceived  on 
this  point.  She  told  me  with  perfect  unconcern  how  my 
father  had  tracked  out  the  whole  line  of  his  duplicity  and 
calumny  regarding  me,  and  had  followed  the  matter  up  by 
a  representation  to  the  duke  at  the  head  of  the  army,  who 
immediately  commanded  his  retirement  from  the  Guards. 
Later  on,  his  family  influence  had  obtained  his  appointment 
as  attache  to  the  embassy  at  Paris ;  but  since  their  first 
rupture  he  had  discontinued  his  visits,  and  now  had  ceased 
to  be  acknowledged  by  them  when  they  met. 

My  cousin's  melancholy  not  being  then  attributable  to 
anything  connected  with  De  Vere,  I  set  myself  to  work  to 
ascertain  whence  it  proceeded  ;  and  suddenly  the  thought 
struck  me  that  perhaps  my  mother's  surmise  might  have 
some  foundation,  and  that  Julia,  feeling  an  affection  for 


256  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

me,  might  have  been  hurt  at  my  evident  want  of  attention 
towards   her  since  we  met. 

I  have  already  begged  of  my  reader  to  separate  such  sus- 
picions from  the  coxcombry  of  the  lady-killer,  who  deems 
every  girl  he  meets  his  victim.  If  I  did  for  a  moment 
imagine  that  my  cousin  liked  me,  I  did  so  with  a  stronger 
sense  of  my  own  unworthiness  to  merit  her  love  than  if  I 
myself  had  sought  her  affection.  I  had  felt  her  superiority 
to  myself  too  early  in  life  to  outlive  the  memory  of  it  as  we 
grew  older.  The  former  feeling  of  dread  which  I  enter- 
tained of  Julia's  sarcasm  still  lived  within  me,  and  I  felt 
keenly  that  she  who  knew  the  weaknesses  of  the  boy  was 
little  likely  to  forget  them  in  reflecting  over  the  failures  of 
the  man  ;  and  thus,  if  she  did  care  for  me,  I  well  knew  that 
her  affection  must  be  chequered  by  too  many  doubts  and  un- 
certainties to  give  it  that  character  of  abiding  love  which 
alone  could  bring  happiness.  I  perceived  clearly  enough 
that  she  disliked  O'Grady.  Was  it,  then,  that,  being  in- 
terested for  me,  she  was  grieved  at  my  great  intimacy  with 
one  she  herself  did  not  admire,  and  who  evidently  treated 
her  with  marked  coldness  and  reserve  ? 

Harassed  with  these  suspicions,  and  annoyed  that  those 
1  had  hoped  to  see  regard  each  other  as  friends  avoided 
every  opportunity  of  intimacy,  I  strolled  forth  to  walk 
alone,  my  mind  brooding  over  dark  and  disagreeable  images, 
and  my  brain  full  of  plaus  all  based  upon  disappointed 
hopes  and  blighted  expectations.  To  my  mother's  invita- 
tion to  dinner  for  that  day  O'Grady  had  returned  an 
apology :  he  was  engaged  to  his  friend  M.  Guillemain,  with 
whom  he  was  also  to  pass  the  morning;  so  that  I  was 
absolutely  without  a  companion. 

When  first  I  issued  from  the  Place  Vendome,  I  resolved 
at  all  hazards  to  wait  on  the  Rooneys,  at  once  to  see  Miss 
Belle w,  and  seek  an  explanation,  if  possible,  for  her  man- 
ner towards  me.  As  I  hastened  on  towards  the  Chaussee, 
however,  I  began  to  reflect  on  the  impropriety  of  such  a 
course,  after  the  evident  refusal  she  had  given  to  any  re- 
newal of  acquaintance.     "I  did  know  Mr.  Hinton,"  were 


FRESCATI'S.  257 

the  words  she  used,  —  words  which,  considering  all  that  had 
passed  between  us,  never  could  have  been  spoken  lightly  or 
without  reason.  A  hundred  vague  conjectures  as  to  the 
different  ways  in  which  my  character  and  motives  might 
have  been  slandered  to  her  occupied  me  as  I  sauntered 
along.  De  Vere  and  Burke  were  both  my  enemies,  and  I 
had  little  doubt  that  with  them  originated  the  calumny 
from  which  I  now  was  suffering ;  and  as  I  turned  over  in 
my  thoughts  all  the  former  passages  of  our  hatred,  I  felt 
how  gladly  they  would  embrace  the  opportunity  of  wound- 
ing me  where  the  injury  would  prove  the  keenest. 

Without  knowing  it,  I  had  actually  reached  the  street 
where  the  Eooneys  lived,  and  was  within  a  few  paces  of 
their  house.  Strange  enough,  the  same  scene  I  had  so  often 
smiled  at  before  their  house  in  Dublin  was  now  enacting 
here,  —  the  great  difference  being,  that  instead  of  the 
lounging  subs  of  marching  regiments,  the  swaggering  cor- 
nets of  dragoons,  the  over-dressed  and  under-bred  crowds  of 
would-be  fashionables  who  then  congregated  before  the 
windows  or  curvetted  beneath  the  balcony,  were  now  the 
generals  of  every  foreign  service,  field-marshals  glittering 
with  orders,  powdered  diplomates,  cordoned  political  writers, 
savans  from  every  country  in  Europe,  and  idlers  whose  bon 
mots  and  smart  sayings  were  the  delight  of  every  dinner- 
table  in  the  capital ;  all  happy  to  have  some  neutral  ground 
where  the  outposts  of  politics  might  be  surveyed  without 
compromise  or  danger,  and  where,  amid  the  excellences  of 
the  table  and  the  pleasures  of  society,  intrigues  could  be 
fathomed  or  invented  under  the  auspices  of  that  excellent 
attorney's  wife,  who  deemed  herself  meanwhile  the  great 
attraction  of  her  courtly  visitors  and  titled  guests. 

As  I  drew  near  the  house  I  scarcely  ventured  to  look 
towards  the  balcony,  in  which  a  number  of  well-dressed  per- 
sons were  now  standing  chatting  together.  One  voice  I 
soon  recognized,  and  its  every  accent  cut  my  very  heart  as  I 
listened.  It  was  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere,  talking  in  his  usual 
tone  of  loud  assumption.  I  could  hear  the  same  vacant 
laugh  which  had  so  often  offended  me;    and   I   actually 

VOL.  II.  —  17 


258  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

dreaded  lest  some  chance  allusion  to  myself  might  reach 
me  where  I  stood.  There  must  be  something  intensely 
powerful  in  the  influence  of  the  human  voice,  when  its 
very  cadence  alone  can  elevate  to  rapture  or  sting  to  mad- 
ness. Who  has  not  felt  the  ecstasy  of  some  one  brief 
word  from  "  lips  beloved,"  after  long  years  of  absence ; 
and  who  has  not  experienced  the  tumultuous  conflict  of 
angry  passions  that  rise  unbidden  at  the  mere  sound  of 
speaking  from  those  we  like  not  ?  My  heart  burned  within 
me  as  I  thought  of  her  who  doubtless  was  then  among  that 
gay  throng,  and  for  whose  amusement  those  powers  of  his 
Lordship's  wit  were  in  all  likelihood  called  forth ;  and  I 
turned  away  in  anger  and  in  sorrow. 

As  the  day  wore  on  I  could  not  face  towards  home.  I 
felt  I  dare  not  meet  the  searching  questions  my  mother  was 
certain  to  ask  me ;  nor  could  I  endure  the  thought  of  mix- 
ing with  a  crowd  of  strangers,  when  my  own  spirits  were 
hourly  sinking.  I  dined  alone  at  a  small  cafe  in  the  Palais 
Royal,  and  sat  moodily  over  my  wine  till  past  eleven  o'clock. 
The  stillness  of  the  room  startled  me  at  length,  and  I  looked 
up  and  found  the  tables  deserted ;  a  sleepy  waiter  lounged 
lazily  on  a  bench,  and  the  untrimmed  candles  and  disor- 
dered look  of  everything  indicated  that  no  other  guests  were 
then  expected. 

"  Where  have  they  gone  to  ? "  said  I,  curious  to  know 
what  so  suddenly  had  taken  the  crowd  away. 

"  To  Frescati's,  Monsieur,"  said  the  waiter ;  "  the  salon 
is  filling  fast  by  this  time." 

A  strange  feeling  of  dislike  to  being  alone  had  taken  hold 
on  me  ;  and  having  inquired  the  way  to  the  Rue  Richelieu 
from  the  servant,  I  issued  forth. 

What  a  contrast  to  the  dark  and  gloomy  streets  of  Paris, 
with  their  irregular  pavement,  was  the  brilliantly-lighted 
vestibule,  with  its  marble  pillars  and  spacious  stair  rising 
gracefully  beyond  it,  which  met  my  eyes  as  I  entered  Fres- 
cati's !  Following  in  the  crowd  of  persons  who  pressed 
their  way  along,  I  reached  a  large  ante-chamber,  where  sev- 
eral servants  in  rich  liveries  received  the  hats  and  canes 


FRESCATI'S.  259 

of  the  visitors  who  thronged  eagerly  forward,  their  merry 
voices  and  gay  laughter  resounding  through  the  arched 
roof. 

As  the  wide  doors  were  thrown  open  noiselessly,  I  was 
quite  unprepared  for  the  splendor  of  the  scene.  Here  were 
not  only  officers  of  rank  in  all  the  gala  of  their  brilliant 
uniforms,  and  civilians  in  full  dress,  shining  in  stars  and 
decorations,  but  ladies  also,  with  that  perfection  of  toilette 
only  known  to  Parisian  women,  their  graceful  figures  scat- 
tered through  the  groups,  or  promenading  slowly  up  and 
down,  conversing  in  a  low  tone ;  while  servants  passed  to 
and  fro  with  champagne  and  fruit-ices  on  massive  silver 
salvers,  their  noiseless  gesture  and  quiet  demeanor  in  per- 
fect keeping  with  the  hushed  and  tranquil  look  of  all 
around.  As  I  drew  closer  to  the  table  I  could  mark  that 
the  stillness  was  even  more  remarkable  ;  not  a  voice  was 
heard  but  of  the  croupier  of  the  table,  as  with  ceaseless 
monotony  he  repeated,  "  Faites  le  jeu,  Messieurs  !  Le  jeu 
est  fait.  Noire  perd,  et  couleur  gagne.  Rouge  perd,  et  le 
couleur  —  "  The  rattle  of  the  rake  and  the  chink  of  the 
gold  followed,  a  low  muttered  "  sacre  !  "  being  the  only 
sound  that  mingled  with  them. 

But  I  could  mark,  that,  although  the  etiquette  of  ruin 
demanded  this  unbroken  silence,  passion  worked  in  every 
feature  there.  On  one  side  was  an  old  man,  his  filmy  eyes 
shaded  by  his  hand  from  the  strong  glare  of  wax-lights, 
peering  with  eagerness  and  tremulous  from  age  and  excite- 
ment as  the  cards  fell  from  the  banker's  hands,  his  blanched 
lips  muttering  each  word  after  the  croupier,  and  his  wasted 
cheek  quivering  as  the  chances  inclined  against  him.  Here 
was  a  bold  and  manly  face,  flushed  and  heated,  whose  blood- 
shot eye  ranged  quickly  over  the  board ;  while  every  now 
and  then  some  effort  to  seem  calm  and  smile  would  cross 
the  features,  and  in  its  working  show  the  dreadful  struggle 
that  was  maintained  within.  And  then  again  a  beautiful 
girl,  her  dark  eye  dilated  almost  to  a  look  of  wild  insanity, 
her  lips  parted,  her  cheeks  marked  with  patches  of  white 
and  red,  and   her   fair   hands   clenched,    while   her   bosom 


260  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

heaved  and  fell  as  though  some  pent-up  agony  was  eating 
within  her  very  heart. 

At  the  end  of  the  table  was  a  vacant  chair,  beside  which 
an  officer  in  a  Prussian  uniform  was  standing,  while  before 
him  was  a  small  brass-clasped  box.  Curious  to  know  what 
this  meant,  I  turned  to  see  to  which  of  those  about  me 
I  might  venture  to  address  a  question,  when  suddenly  my 
curiosity  became  satisfied  without  inquiry.  A  loud  voice 
talking  German  with  a  rough  accent,  the  heavy  tramp  of  a 
cavalry  boot  clanking  with  large  spurs,  announced  the 
approach  of  some  one  who  cared  little  for  the  conventional 
silence  of  the  rooms ;  and  as  the  crowd  opened  I  saw  an 
old  man  in  blue  uniform,  covered  with  stars,  elbow  his  way 
towards  the  chair.  His  eyebrows  of  shaggy  gray  almost 
concealed  his  eyes  as  effectually  as  his  heavy  mustache  did 
his  mouth.  He  walked  lame,  and  leaned  on  a  stick,  which, 
as  he  took  his  place  in  the  chair,  he  placed  unceremoniously 
on  the  table  before  him.  The  box,  which  was  opened  the 
moment  he  sat  down,  he  now  drew  towards  him,  and 
plunging  his  hand  into  it  drew  forth  a  handful  of  napoleons, 
which,  without  waiting  to  count,  he  threw  on  the  table, 
uttering  in  a  thick  guttural  voice  the  one  word  "  rouge." 
The  impassive  coldness  of  the  croupier  as  he  pronounced 
his  habitual  exordium  seemed  to  move  the  -old  man's 
impatience,  as  he  rattled  his  fingers  hurriedly  among  the 
gold  and  muttered  some  broken  words  of  German  between 
his  teeth.  The  enormous  sum  he  betted  drew  every  eye 
towards  his  part  of  the  table,  —  of  all  which  he  seemed 
totally  regardless,  as  he  raked  in  his  winnings,  or  frowned 
with  a  heavy  lowering  look  as  often  as  fortune  turned 
against  him.  Marshal  Blucher  —  for  it  was  he  —  was  an 
impassioned  gambler,  and  needed  not  the  excitement  of  the 
champagne,  which  he  drank  eagerly  from  time  to  time,  to 
stimulate  his  passion  for  play. 

As  I  turned  from  the  rouge  et  noir  table,  I  remarked  that 
every  now  and  then  some  person  left  the  room  by  a  small 
door,  which,  concealed  by  a  mirror,  had  escaped  my  atten- 
tion when  I  entered.     On  inquiry  I  found  that  this  passage 


FRESCATTS.  261 

led  to  a  secret  part  of  the  establishment,  which  only  a 
certain  set  of  players  frequented,  and  where  the  tables  were 
kept  open  during  the  entire  day  and  night.  Curious  to  see 
the  interior  of  this  den  of  greater  iniquity  I  presented 
myself  at  it,  and  on  opening  found  myself  in  a  narrow 
corridor,  where  a  servant  demanded  my  billet.  Having 
informed  him  that  I  was  merely  there  from  motives  of 
curiosity,  I  offered  him  a  napoleon,  which  speedily  satisfied 
his  scruples.  He  conducted  me  to  the  end  of  the  gallery, 
where,  touching  a  spring,  the  door  opened,  and  I  found 
myself  in  a  room  considerably  smaller  than  the  salon,  and, 
with  the  exception  of  being  less  brilliantly  lighted,  equally 
splendid  in  its  decorations.  Around  on  all  sides  were 
small  partitions,  like  the  cells  in  a  London  coffee-house, 
where  tables  were  provided  for  parties  to  sup  at.  These 
were  now  unoccupied,  the  greater  attraction  of  high  play 
having  drawn  every  one  around  the  table,  where  the  same 
monotonous  sounds  of  the  croupier's  voice,  the  same  patter 
of  the  cards,  and  the  same  clinking  of  the  gold  continued 
unceasingly.  The  silence  of  the  salon  was  as  nothing  to  the 
stillness  that  reigned  here.  Not  a  voice  save  the  banker's 
was  ever  heard ;  each  bettor  placed  his  money  on  the  red  or 
black  square  of  the  table  without  speaking,  and  the  massive 
rouleaus  were  passed  backwards  and  forwards  with  no  other 
sound  save  the  noise  of  the  rake.  I  remarked,  too,  that  the 
stakes  seemed  far  heavier;  crumpled  rolls  of  billets  de 
banque  were  often  thrown  down,  and  from  the  muffled 
murmur  of  the  banker  I  could  hear  such  sums  as  "  seven 
thousand  francs,"  "ten  thousand  francs,"  called  out. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  approach  near  enough 
to  see  the  play ;  at  last  I  edged  my  way  to  the  front,  and 
obtained  a  place  behind  the  croupier's  chair,  where  a 
good  view  of  the  table  was  presented  to  me.  The  differ- 
ent nations,  with  their  different  costumes,  tongues,  and 
expressions  so  strangely  congregated,  were  a  study  that 
might  have  amused  me  for  a  long  time,  had  not  a  chance 
word  of  English  spoken  close  by  me  drawn  off  my 
attention. 


262  JACK   HINTON,   THE   GUARDSMAN. 

Immediately  in  front,  but  with  their  backs  towards  me, 
sat  two  persons,  who  seemed,  as  was  often  the  habit,  to  play- 
in  concert.  A  large  heap  of  gold  and  notes  lay  before 
them,  and  several  cards,  marked  with  pin-holes  to  chronicle 
the  run  of  the  game,  were  scattered  about.  Unable  to 
see  their  faces,  I  was  struck  by  one  singular  but  decisive 
mark  of  their  difference  in  condition  and  rank.  The  hands 
of  one  were  fair  and  delicate  almost  as  a  woman's,  —  the 
blue  veins  circling  clearly  through  them,  and  rings  of  great 
price  and  brilliancy  glittering  on  the  fingers ;  those  of  the 
other  were  coarse,  brown-stained,  and  ill  cared  for,  —  the 
sinewy  fingers  and  strong  bony  knuckles  denoting  one  ac- 
customed to  laborious  exertions.  It  was  strange  that  two 
persons,  evidently  so  wide  apart  in  their  walks  in  life, 
should  be  thus  associated ;  and  feeling  a  greater  inter- 
est from  the  chance  phrase  of  English  one  of  them  had 
dropped,  I  watched  them  closely.  By  degrees  I  could  mark 
that  their  difference  in  dress  was  no  less  conspicuous ; 
for  although  the  more  humble  was  well  and  even  fashiona- 
bly attired,  he  had  not  the  same  distinctive  marks  which 
characterized  his  companion  as  a  person  of  class  and 
condition.  While  I  looked,  the  pile  of  gold  before  them 
had  gradually  melted  down  to  some  few  pieces ;  and  as 
they  bent  down  their  heads  over  the  cards,  and  concerted 
as  to  their  play,  it  was  clear  that  by  their  less  frequent 
ventures  they  were  becoming  more  cautious. 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  he,  who  seemed  to  be  the  superior,  "  I  '11 
not  risk  it." 

"  I  say  yes,  yes ! "  muttered  the  other,  in  a  deeper  voice  ; 
"the  rouge  can't  go  on  forever:  it  has  passed  eleven 
times."  . 

"I  know,"  said  the  former,  bitterly;  "and  I  have  lost 
seventeen  thousand  francs." 

"  You  have  lost ! "  retorted  the  other,  savagely,  but  in 
the  same  low  tone  ;  "  why  not  we  ?  Am  1  for  nothing  in 
all  this  ?  " 

"  Come,  come,  Ulick,  don't  be  in  a  passion ! " 

The  name  and  the  tone  of  the  speaker  startled  me.     I 


FRESCATI'S.  263 

leaned  forward ;  my  very  head  reeled  as  I  looked.  It  was 
Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  and  Ulick  Burke.  The  rush  of 
passionate  excitement  that  ran  through  me  for  a  minute  or 
two,  to  be  thus  thrown  beside  the  two  only  enemies  I  had 
ever  had,  unnerved  me  so  far  that  I  could  not  collect 
myself.  To  call  them  forth  at  once,  and  charge  them  with 
their  baseness  towards  me ;  to  dare  them  openly,  and 
denounce  them  before  that  crowded  assembly,  —  was  my 
first  rapid  thought.  But  from  this  wild  thrill  of  anger  I 
was  soon  turned,  as  Burke's  voice,  elevated  to  a  tone 
of  passion,  called  out,  — 

"  Hold  !  I  am  going  to  bet !  " 

The  banker  stopped ;  the  cards  still  rested  in  his  hands. 

"  I  say,  sir,  I  will  do  it,"  said  Burke,  turning  to  De  Vere, 
whose  cheek  was  now  pale  as  death,  and  whose  disordered 
and  haggard  air  was  increased  by  his  having  torn  off  his 
cravat  and  opened  the  collar  of  his  shirt.  "  I  say  I  will ; 
do  you  gainsay  me  ?  "  continued  he,  laying  on  the  words  an 
accent  of  such  contemptuous  insolence  that  even  De  Vere's 
eye  fired  at  it.  "  Vingt  mille  francs,  noir,"  said  Burke,  plac- 
ing his  last  billet  on  the  table ;  and  the  words  were  scarce 
spoken  when  the  banker  cried  out, — 

"  Noir  perd  et  passe." 

A  horrible  curse  broke  from  Burke  as  he  fixed  his 
staring  eyeballs  on  the  outspread  cards,  and  counted  over 
the  numbers  to  himself. 

"  You  see,  Burke,"  said  De  Vere. 

" Don't  speak  to  me,  now,  damn  you!"  said  the  other, 
with  clenched  teeth. 

De  Vere  pushed  back  his  chair,  and  rising,  moved 
through  the  crowd  towards  an  open  window.  Burke  sat 
with  his  head  buried  between  his  hands  for  some  seconds, 
and  then  starting  up  at  the  banker's  call,  cried  out,  — 

"  Dix  mille,  noir  !  " 

A  kind  of  half-suppressed  laugh  ran  round  the  table  at 
seeing  that  he  had  no  funds  while  he  still  offered  to  bet. 
He  threw  his  eyes  upon  the  board,  and  then  as  quickly 
turned  them  on  the  players.     One  by  one  his  dark  look  was 


264  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

bent  on  them,  as  if  to  search  out  some  victim  for  his  hate ; 
but  all  were  hushed.  Many  as  reckless  as  himself  were 
there,  many  as  utterly  ruined,  but  not  one  so  lost  to  hope. 

"  Who  laughed  ? "  said  he  in  French,  while  the  thick 
veins  of  his  forehead  stood  out  like  cordage ;  and  then,  as 
none  answered  to  his  challenge,  he  rose  slowly,  still  scowl- 
ing with  the  malignity  of  a  demon. 

"  May  I  have  your  seat,  Monsieur  ?  "  said  a  dapper  little 
Frenchman,  with  a  smile  and  a  bow,  as  Burke  moved 
away. 

"  Yes,  take  it,"  said  he,  as  lifting  the  strong  chair  with 
V  one  hand  he  dashed  it  upon  the  floor,  smashing  it  to  pieces 
with  a  crash  that  shook  the  room. 

The  crowd,  which  made  way  for  him  to  pass  out,  as 
speedily  closed  again  around  the  table,  where  the  work  of 
ruin  still  went  forward.  Not  a  passing  glance  was  turned 
from  the  board  to  look  after  the  beggared  gambler. 

The  horrible  indifference  the  players  had  shown  to  the 
sufferings  of  this  wretched  man  so  thoroughly  disgusted 
me  that  I  could  no  longer  bear  even  to  look  on  the  game. 
The  passion  of  play  had  shown  itself  to  me  now  in  all  its 
most  repulsive  form,  and  I  turned  with  abhorrence  from 
the  table. 

My  mind  agitated  by  a  number  of  emotions,  and  my 
heart  now  swelling  with  triumphant  vengeance,  now  filled 
with  pity  for  the  sake  of  him  who  had  ruined  my  fortunes 
forever,  I  sat  in  one  of  the  small  boxes  I  have  mentioned, 
which,  dimly  lighted,  had  not  yet  been  sought  by  any  of 
the  players  to  sup  in.  A  closely  drawn  curtain  separated 
the  little  place  I  occupied  from  the  adjoining  one,  where 
from  time  to  time  I  heard  the  clink  of  glasses  and  the  noise 
of  champagne-corks.  At  first  I  supposed  that  some  other 
solitary  individual  had  established  himself  there  to  enjoy 
his  winnings  or  brood  over  his  losses,  when  at  last  I  could 
hear  the  low  muttering  of  voices,  which  ere  long  I  recog- 
nized as  belonging  to  Burke  and  De  Vere. 

Burke,  who  evidently  from  his  tone  and  manner  pos- 
sessed the  mastery  over  his  companion,  no  longer  employed 


FRESCATI'S.  265 

the  insulting  accents  I  had  witnessed  at  the  table  ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  condescended  to  flatter ;  affected  to  be  de- 
lighted with  De  Vere's  wit  and  sharpness,  and  more  than 
once  insinuated  that  with  such  an  associate  he  cared  little 
what  tricks  fortune  played  them,  as,  to  use  his  own  phrase, 
"  they  were  sure  to  come  round." 

De  Vere's  voice,  which  I  could  only  hear  at  rare  inter- 
vals, told  that  he  bad  drunk  deeply;  and  that  between 
wine  and  his  losses  a  kind  of  reckless  desperation  had 
seized  him,  which  gave  to  his  manner  and  words  a 
semblance  of  boldness  which  his  real  character  lacked 
completely. 

When  I  knew  that  Burke  and  De  Vere  were  the  persona 
near  me,  I  rose  to  leave  the  spot ;  the  fear  of  playing  the 
eavesdropper  forbade  my  remaining.  But  as  I  stood  up, 
the  mention  of  my  name  uttered  in  a  tone  of  vengeance  by 
Burke  startled  me,  and  I  listened. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  striking  his  hand  upon  the  table,  and 
confirming  his  assertion  with  a  horrible  oath,  —  '*  Yes,  for 
him  and  through  him  my  uncle  left  me  a  beggar.  But 
already  I  have  had  my  revenge;  though  it  sha'n't  end 
there." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  have  him  out  again  ?  Confound 
him,  he 's  a  devilish  good  shot ;  winged  you  already,  — 
eh?" 

Burke,  unmindful  of  the  interruption,  continued,  — 

"  It  was  I  that  told  my  uncle  how  this  fellow  was  the 
nephew  of  the  man  who  seduced  his  own  wife.  I  worked 
upon  the  old  man  so  that  he  left  house  and  home,  and 
wandered  through  the  country,  till  mental  irritation,  acting 
on  a  broken  frame,  became  fever,  and  then  death." 

"  Died,  —  eh  ?  Glorious  nephew  you  are,  by  Jove  ! 
What  next?" 

"  I  '11  tell  you.  I  forged  a  letter,  in  his  handwriting  to 
Louisa,  written  as  if  on  his  death-bed,  commanding  as  his 
last  prayer  that  she  should  never  see  Hinton  again ;  or  if 
by  any  accident  the}"  should  meet,  that  she  should  not  re- 
cognize him  nor  know  him." 


266  JACK  HINTON,   THE   GUAEDSMAN. 

" Devilish  clever,  that;  egad,  a  better  martingale  than 
that  you  invented  a  while  ago.  I  say,  pass  the  wine  !  red 
fourteen  times  —  was  n't  it  fourteen  ?  —  and  if  it  had  not 
been  for  your  cursed  obstinacy  I  'd  have  backed  the  red. 
See,  fifty  naps  !  one  hundred,  four,  eight,  sixteen,  thirty- 
four,  or  six,  —  which  is  it  ?     Oh,  confounded  stupidity !  " 

"  Come,  come,  Dudley !  better  luck  another  time.  Louisa's 
eyes  must  have  been  too  kindly  bent  on  you,  or  you'd  have 
been  more  fortunate." 

"  Eh,  you  think  she  likes  me  ?  —  Capital  champagne 
that!  —  I  always  thought  she  did  from  the  first.  That's 
what  I  call  walking  inside  of  Hinton.  How  he'll  look! 
Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

"  Yes,  how  he  '11  look ! "  echoed  Burke,  endeavoring  to 
join  the  laugh.     "But  now  one  thing  is  yet  wanting." 

"  You  mean  those  despatches,"  replied  De  Vere,  suddenly. 
"  You  always  come  back  to  that.  Well,  once  for  all,  I  say, 
no!" 

"Just  hear  me,  Dudley!  Nothing  is  easier;  nothing 
incurs  less  risk." 

"Less  risk!  what  do  you  mean?  No  risk  for  me  to  steal 
the  papers  of  the  embassy,  and  give  them  to  you  to  hand 
over  to  that  scoundrel  at  the  head  of  the  secret  police  ? 
Devilish  green  I  may  be,  but  not  so  green  as  that,  Master 
Burke ! " 

"  Guillemain  will  give  us  forty  thousand  francs.  Forty 
thousand !  with  half  that,  and  your  luck,  De  Vere,  we  '11 
break  every  bank  in  Paris.  I  know  you  don't  wish  to 
marry  Louisa." 

"No;  hang  it,  that's  always  the  wind-up.  Keep  that 
for  the  last  throw,  eh  ?  —  There  's  heavy  play  there ;  see 
how  silent  they  are." 

"Ay;  and  with  forty  thousand  francs  we  might  join 
them,"  said  Burke,  as  if  musing;  "and  so  safely  it  may 
be  done." 

"  I  say  no ! "  replied  De  Vere,  resolutely. 

"  What  do  you  fear  ?     Is  it  me  ?  " 

"  No,  not  you ;  I  believe  you  are  true  enough.     Your  own 


FRESCATI'S.  267 

neck  will  be  in  the  rope  too ;  so  you  '11  say  nothing.  But  I 
won't  do  it !  —  pass  the  champagne  !  —  there 's  something 
so  devilish  blackguard  in  stealing  a  man's  papers." 

Burke  started,  as  if  the  tones  of  his  companion's  voice 
had  stung  him  like  an  adder. 

"  Have  you  thought  over  your  present  condition  ?  "  said 
Burke,  firmly.  "  You  have  not  a  guinea  left ;  your  debts 
in  Paris  alone,  to  my  knowledge,  are  above  forty  thousand 
francs ! " 

"  I  '11  never  pay  a  franc  of  them,  —  damned  swindlers 
and  Jew  money-lenders ! "  was  the  cool  reply. 

"Might  not  some  scrupulous  moralist  hint  there  was 
something  blackguard  in  that?"  said  Burke,  with  slow 
and  distinct  articulation. 

"  What ! "  replied  De  Vere ;  "  do  you  come  here  to  tutor 
me,  —  a  low-bred  horse-jockey,  a  spy  ?  Take  off  your  hands, 
sir,  or  I  '11  alarm  the  room  ;  let  loose  my  collar ! " 

"  Come,  come,  my  lord,  we  're  both  in  fault,"  said  Burke, 
smothering  his  passion  with  a  terrible  effort;  "we  of  all 
men  must  not  quarrel.  Play  is  to  us  the  air  we  breathe, 
the  light  we  live  in.     Give  me  your  hand." 

"  Allow  me  to  draw  on  my  glove  first,"  said  De  Vere,  in 
a  tone  of  incomparable  insolence. 

"  Champagne  here ! "  said  Burke  to  the  waiter  as  he 
passed,  and  for  some  minutes  neither  spoke. 

The  clock  chimed  a  quarter  to  two,  and  Burke  started  to 
his  feet. 

"  I  must  be  going,"  said  he,  hastily ;  "  I  should  have  been 
at  the  Porte  St.  Martin  by  half-past  one." 

" Salute  the  Jacobite  Club,  de  ma  part"  said  De  Vere, 
with  an  insulting  laugh,  "  and  tell  them  to  cut  everybody's 
throat  in  Paris  save  old  Lafitte's ;  he  has  promised  to  do  a 
bill  for  me  in  the  morning." 

"  You  '11  not  need  his  kindness  so  soon,"  replied  Burke, 
"  if  you  are  willing  to  take  my  advice.  Forty  thousand 
francs  —  " 

"  Would  he  make  it  sixty,  think  you  ?  " 


268  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"Sixty!"  said  Burke,  with  animation;  "I'm  not  sure, 
but  shall  I  say  for  sixty  you'll  do  it?" 

"No,  I  don't  mean  that;  I  was  only  anxious  to  know 
if  these  confounded  rigmaroles  I  have  to  copy  sometimes 
could  possibly  interest  any  one  to  that  amount." 

Burke  tried  to  laugh,  but  the  hollow  chuckle  sounded  like 
the  gulping  of  a  smothering  man. 

"  Laugh  out ! "  said  De  Vere,  whose  voice  became  more 
and  more  indistinct  as  his  courage  became  stronger ;  "  that 
muttering  is  so  devilish  like  a  spy,  a  rascally,  low-bred  —  " 

A  heavy  blow,  a  half-uttered  cry,  followed ;  and  De  Vere 
fell  with  a  crash  to  the  floor,  his  face  and  temples  bathed 
with  blood,  while  Burke,  springing  to  the  door,  darted 
downstairs  and  gained  the  street  before  pursuit  was  thought 
of.  A  few  of  the  less  interested  about  the  table  assisted 
me  to  raise  the  fallen  man,  from  whose  nose  and  mouth  the 
blood  flowed  in  torrents.  He  was  perfectly  senseless,  and 
evinced  scarcely  a  sign  of  life  as  we  carried  him  downstairs 
and  placed  him  in  a  carriage. 

"  Where  to  ?  "  said  the  coachman,  as  I  stood  beside  the 
door. 

I  hesitated  for  a  second,  and  then  said,  "No.  4  Place 
Vendome." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

DISCLOSURES. 

I  have  more  than  once  heard  physicians  remark  the 
singular  immunity  a  fool's  skull  seems  to  possess  from  the 
evil  effects  of  injury,  —  as  if  Nature,  when  denying  a  gov- 
erning faculty,  had,  in  kind  compensation,  imparted  a 
triple  thickness  to  the  head  thus  exposed.  It  is  well 
known  how  among  the  educated  and  thinking  classes 
many  maladies  are  fatal  which  are  comparatively  innocuous 
among  those  whose  hands  alone  are  called  on  to  labor.  A 
very  ingenious  theory  might  be  spun  from  this  fact,  to  the 
manifest  self-gratulation  of  fox-hunters,  sailors,  gentlemen 
who  assault  the  new  police,  tithe-proctors,  and  others. 
For  the  present  I  have  no  further  use  for  the  remark  than 
as  it  bore  upon  the  head-piece  of  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere, 
whose  admirable  developments  had  received  little  or  no 
damage  from  the  rude  assault  of  his  companion.  When 
he  awoke  the  next  morning,  he  was  only  aware  that  some- 
thing unusual  had  occurred ;  and  gradually  by  "  trying 
back  "  in  his  sensations,  he  remembered  every  particle  that 
took  place,  —  had  the  clearest  recollection  of  the  "run 
upon  red ;  "  knew  the  number  of  bottles  of  champagne  he 
had  partaken  of ;  and  was  only  puzzled  by  one  thing,  — 
what  could  possibly  have  suggested  the  courage  with  which 
he  confronted  Burke,  and  the  hardihood  that  led  to  insult- 
ing him.  As  to  any  awkwardness  at  being  brought  home 
to  the  house  of  the  person  he  had  himself  so  ill-treated,  he 
never  felt  anything  approaching  to  it ;  the  extent  of  his 
reasoning  on  this  point  only  went  to  his  satisfaction  that 
"  some  one  "  took  care  of  him,  and  that  he  was  not  left  to 
lie  on  the  floor  of  the  salon. 


270  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

This  admirable  philosophy  of  De  Vere  served  in  a  great 
measure  to  relieve  me  from  the  constraint  I  felt  in  pre- 
senting myself  before  him,  and  soon  put  me  perfectly  at 
my  ease  in  our  interview.  After  learning,  that,  except 
some  headaching  sensations,  the  only  inconvenience  he 
experienced  was  an  unconquerable  thirst,  I  touched  lightly 
on  the  cause  of  his  misfortune ;  when,  what  was  my  aston- 
ishment to  discern  that  he  not  only  did  not  entertain  a 
particle  of  ill-will  towards  the  man  who  had  so  brutally 
ill-treated  him,  but  actually  grew  warm  in  his  panegyric 
of  Burke's  consummate  skill  and  address  at  play,  —  such 
qualities  in  his  estimation  being  well  worthy  to  cover  any 
small  blemishes  of  villany  his  character  might  suffer 
under. 

"  I  say,  don't  you  think  Burke  a  devilish  sharp  fellow  ? 
He 's  up  to  everything,  and  so  cool,  so  confoundedly  cool ! 
Not  last  night,  though  ;  no,  by  Jove !  he  lost  temper  com- 
pletely. I  shall  be  marked  with  that  knock,  eh  ?  Damn 
me,  it  was  too  bad ;  he  must  apologize  for  it.  You  know- 
he  was  drunk,  and  somehow  he  was  all  wrong  the  whole 
evening ;  he  would  n't  let  me  back  the  '  rouge,'  and  such  a 
run  —  you  saw  that,  I  suppose." 

I  assented  with  a  nod,  for  I  still  hesitated  how  far  I 
should  communicate  to  him  my  knowledge  of  Burke's 
villany  towards  myself. 

"  By-the-bye,  it 's  rather  awkward  my  being  here ;  you 
know  your  people  have  cut  me.  Don't  you  think  I  might 
get  a  cab  to  bring  me  over  to  the  Bue  d' Alger  ?  " 

There  was  something  which  touched  me  in  the  simplicity 
of  this  remark,  and  I  proceeded  to  assure  him  that  any 
former  impressions  of  my  friends  would  not  be  remembered 
against  him  at  that  moment. 

"  Oh,  that  I  'm  sure  of ;  no  one  ever  thinks  it  worth 
while  to  bear  malice  against  a  poor  devil  like  me.  But  if 
I  'd  have  backed  the  red  —  " 

"  Colonel  O'Grady  is  in  the  drawing-room,"  said  a  servant 
in  a  low  voice  to  me  at  this  instant ;  and  leaving  Lord 
Dudley    to   speculate   on  the   contingencies  of  his  having 


DISCLOSURES.  271 

"backed  the  red,"  I  joined  my  friend,  whom  I  had  not 
seen  on  the  previous  day.  We  were  alone,  and  in  ten  min- 
utes I  explained  to  him  the  entire  discovery  I  had  fallen 
upon,  concealing  only  my  affection  for  Louisa  Bellew, 
which  I  could  not  bring  myself  even  to  allude  to. 

"  I  see,"  said  Phil,  when  I  concluded,  —  "I  see  you  are 
half  disposed  to  forgive  De  Vere  all  his  rascality.  Now, 
what  a  different  estimate  we  take  of  men  !  Perhaps  —  I 
can't  say  —  it  is  because  I  am  an  Irishman,  but  I  lean  to 
the  bold-faced  villain  Burke ;  the  miserable,  contemptible 
weakness  of  the  one  is  far  more  intolerable  to  me  than  the 
ruffian  effrontery  of  the  other.  Don't  forget  the  lesson  I 
gave  you  many  a  year  ago :  a  fool  is  always  a  blackguard. 
Now,  if  that  fellow  could  see  his  companion  this  minute, 
there  is  not  a  circumstance  he  has  noticed  here  that  he 
would  not  retail  if  it  bore  to  your  disadvantage.  Un- 
touched by  your  kindness  to  him,  he  would  sell  you  —  ay, 
to  the  very  man  you  saved  him  from !  But,  after  all,  what 
have  we  to  do  with  him  ?  Our  first  point  is  to  rescue  this 
poor  girl's  name  from  being  ever  mixed  with  his ;  anything 
further  is,  of  course,  out  of  the  question.  The  Rooneys  are 
going  back :  I  saw  Paul  this  morning.  '  The  Cruiskeen 
Lawn'  has  been  their  ruin.  All  the  Irish  officers  who  had 
taken  Madame  de  Roni  for  an  illustrious  stranger  have 
found  out  the  true  scent ;  and  so  many  distinguished  per- 
sons are  involved  in  the  ridicule  of  their  parties  that  the 
old  chef  de  police,  my  friend,  has  sent  them  a  private  order 
to  leave  Paris  in  a  week.  Paul  is  in  raptures  at  it.  He 
has  spent  eighteen  thousand  in  two  months ;  detests  the 
place ;  is  dying  to  be  back  in  Dublin ;  and  swears  that 
except  one  Cossack  officer  he  has  n't  met  a  pleasant  fellow 
since  he  came  abroad." 

"  And  Mrs.  Paul  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  old  story.  I  put  Guillemain  up  to  it,  and  he 
has  hinted  that  the  Empress  of  Russia  has  heard  of  the 
czar's  attentions ;  that  there 's  the  devil  to  pay  in  St. 
Petersburg ;  and  that  if  she  does  n't  manage  to  steal  out  of 
Paris  slyly,  some  confounded  boyard  or  other  will  slip  a 


272  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

sack  over  her  head  and  carry  her  off  to  Tobolsk.  '  Eliza- 
beth and  the  Exiles '  has  formed  part  of  her  reading,  and 
Madame  de  Eoni  will  dream  every  night  of  the  knout  till 
she  reaches  her  dear  native  land.  —  But  now  to  business. 
I,  too,  have  made  my  discoveries  since  we  met.  De  Vere's 
high  play  has  been  a  matter  of  surprise  to  all  who  know 
him.  I  have  found  out  his  secret,  —  he  plays  with  forged 
billets  de  banque" 

"  And  has  the  wretched  fellow  gone  so  far  as  this  ?  " 

"  He  does  n't  know  it ;  he  believes  that  the  money  is  the 
proceeds  of  bills  he  has  given  to  Burke,  who  affects  to  get 
them  discounted.  See  here,  —here  are  a  handful  of  their 
notes.  Guillemain  knows  all,  and  retains  the  secret  as  a 
hold  over  Burke,  whose  honesty  to  himself  he  already  sus- 
pects.    If  he  catch  him  tripping  —  " 

"Then  —  " 

"  Why,  then,  the  galleys  for  life.  Such  is  the  system  ;  a 
villain  with  them  is  worthless  if  his  life  is  n't  at  their  dis- 
posal. Satan's  bond  completely,  —  all,  all.  But  show  me 
De  Vere's  room,  and  leave  me  alone  with  him  for  half  an 
hour.  Let  us  then  meet  at  my  hotel,  and  concert  future 
measures." 

Having  left  O'Grady  with  De  Vere,  I  walked  out  upon 
the  boulevards,  my  head  full  of  the  extraordinary  facts  so 
suddenly  thronging  one  upon  the  other.  A  dash  of  hope, 
that  for  many  a  day  had  not  visited  me,  was  now  mingled 
through  all  my  meditations,  and  I  began  to  think  that 
there  was  yet  a  chance  of  happiness  for  me. 

I  had  not  gone  many  paces  when  an  arm  was  thrust  into 
mine,  and  a  hearty  chuckling  laugh  at  the  surprise  rang  in 
my  ear.  I  turned:  it  was  Mr.  Paul  Rooney,  taking  his 
morning's  promenade  of  Paris,  and  now  on  his  way  home 
with  an  enormous  bouquet  for  Madame,  which  she  had 
taught  him  to  present  to  her  each  day  on  her  appearing  in 
the  drawing-room. 

"  Ah,  Captain,  the  very  man  I  wanted !  We  have  n't 
had  a  moment  to  ourselves  since  your  arrival.  You  must 
come  and  take  a  bit  of  dinner  with  us   to-day,  —  thank 


DISCLOSURES.  27o 

Heaven,  we  've  no  company  !  I  have  a  leg  of  pork,  smug- 
gled into  the  house  as  if  it  was  a  bale  of  goods  from  Alex- 
andria ;  nobody  knows  of  it  but  myself  and  Tim." 

"  Tim  !  why,  have  you  brought  Tim  to  Paris  ?  " 

"  Hush ! "  said  he  in  a  low,  cautious  voice ;  "  I  'd  be 
ruined  entirely  if  Madame  was  to  find  him  out.  Tim  is 
dressed  like  a  Tartar,  and  stands  in  the  hall ;  and  Mrs. 
Rooney  believes  that  he  never  heard  of  a  civil  bill  in  his 
life.     But  here  we  are." 

So  saying,  he  opened  a  small  wicket  with  a  latch-key, 
and  led  me  into  a  large  and  well-trimmed  gardeu,  across 
which  we  walked  at  a  rapid  pace,  Paul  speculating  from 
the  closed  shutters  of  his  wife's  room  that  he  needed  not 
have  hurried  home  so  fast. 

"  She 's  not  down  yet  —  one  o'clock  as  I  'm  a  sinner  ! 
Come  along  and  sit  down  in  the  library ;  I  '11  join  you 
presently." 

Scarcely  had  Paul  left  the  room  when  I  began  to  think 
over  the  awkwardness  of  my  position  should  I  meet  Miss 
Bellew.  What  course  to  follow  under  the  circumstances  I 
knew  not ;  when  just  at  the  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
she  entered.  Not  perceiving  me,  as  I  stood  in  a  deep 
window-recess,  she  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire  and  sat  down. 
I  hardly  ventured  to  breathe.  I  felt  like  one  who  had  no 
right  to  obtrude  himself  there,  and  had  become,  as  it  were, 
a  spy  upon  her.  A  long-drawn  breath  burst  from  me ;  she 
started  up.  I  moved  slightly  forward,  and  stood  before 
her.  She  leaned  her  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair  for 
support ;  her  cheek  grew  deadly  pale,  and  a  tremulous 
quiver  shook  her  lip. 

"  Mr.  Hinton,"  she  began ;  and  then  as  if  the  very  sound 
of  her  voice  had  terrified  her,  she  paused.  "  Mr.  Hinton," 
resumed  she,  "  I  am  sure  —  nay,  I  know  —  if  you  were 
aware  of  the  reasons  of  my  conduct  towards  you,  you 
would  not  only  acquit  me  of  all  blame,  but  spare  me  the 
pain  of  our  ever  meeting  again." 

"  I  know  them,  —  I  do  know  them,"  said  I,  passionately. 
"  I  have  been  slandered." 

VOL.  II. — 18 


274  JACK  HDvTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  Xo,  you  do  not,  cannot  know  what  I  mean,"  interrupted 
she.  "  It  is  a  secret  between  my  own  heart  and  one  who  is 
now  no  more." 

The  last  words  fell  from  her  one  by  one,  while  a  single 
tear  rolled  from  her  eyelid  and  trickled  along  her  cheek. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Louisa ;  I  do  know  it,  —  I  know  all.  A 
chance  has  told  me  how  your  dear  father's  name  has  been 
used  to  banish  me  forever  from  your  sight ;  how  a  forgery 
of  his  handwriting  —  " 

"  What !  who  could  have  told  you  what  my  father's  last 
note  contained  ?  " 

"  He  who  wrote  it  confessed  it  in  my  hearing,  —  Ulick 
Burke.  Nay,  I  can  even  repeat  the  words — "  But  as  I 
spoke,  a  violent  trembling  seized  her;  her  lips  became 
bloodless  ;  she  tottered,  and  sank  upon  the  chair.  I  had 
only  time  to  spring  forward  and  catch  her  in  my  arms, 
and  her  head  fell  heavily  back,  and  dropped  on  my 
shoulder. 

I  cannot,  if  I  would,  repeat  the  words  which  in  all  the 
warm  eloquence  of  affection  I  spoke.  I  could  mark  by  her 
heightened  color  that  the  life-blood  again  coursed  freely  in 
her  veins,  and  could  see  that  she  heard  me.  I  told  her 
how  through  every  hardship  and  suffering,  in  all  the 
sorrow  of  disappointed  ambition,  in  the  long  hours  of  cap- 
tivity, my  heart  had  ever  turned  to  her ;  and  then,  when 
we  did  meet,  to  see  her  changed  ! 

"  But  you  do  not  blame,  —  you  cannot  blame  me  if  I 
believed  —  " 

"  No,  if  you  tell  me  now  that  but  for  this  falsehood  you 
have  not  altered ;  that  your  heart  is  still  as  much  my  own 
as  I  once  thought  it." 

A  faint  smile  played  on  her  lips  as  her  eyes  were  turned 
upon  me  ;  while  her  voice  muttered,  — 

"  And  do  you  still  love  me  ?  " 

I  pressed  her  hand  to  my  lips  in  rapture,  when  suddenly 
the  door  opened,  and  Paul  Rooney  rushed  in. 

"  Another  candidate  for  the  leg  of  —  Eh  !  what 's 
this  ? "   said  he,  as   I  rose  and  advanced  to   meet  him  j 


DISCLOSURES.  275 

while  Louisa,  blushing  deeply,  buried  her  head  in  her 
hand,  and  then  starting  up,  left  the  room. 

"Captain,  captain,"  said  Paul,  gravely,  "what  does  this 
mean  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  because  there  is  some  differ- 
ence in  our  rank  in  life,  that  you  are  privileged  to  insult 
one  who  is  under  my  protection  ?  Is  it  because  you  are 
the  Guardsman  and  I  the  attorney  that  you  have  dared  to 
take  a  liberty  here  which  in  your  own  walk  you  could  n't 
venture  on  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Kooney,  you  mistake  me  sadly." 

"  If  I  do  not  mistake  you,  I  '11  put  a  hole  in  your  body 
as  sure  as  my  name 's  Paul,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

"  You  do,  then,  and  wrong  me  to  boot.  I  have  been 
long  and  ardently  attached  to  Miss  Bellew.  From  the 
hour  I  met  her  at  your  house  I  loved  her.  It  is  the  first 
time  we  have  met  since  our  long  separation  :  I  determined 
it  should  not  be  lost.     I  've  asked  her  to  be  my  wife." 

"  You  have  !     And  what  does  she  say  ?  " 

"  She  has  consented." 

"  Rum-ti-iddity,  iddity  !  "  said  Paul,  snapping  his  fingers, 
and  capering  about  the  room  like  a  man  deranged.  "  Give 
me  your  hand,  my  buck  !  I  'd  rather  draw  the  settlements, 
so  help  me,  than  I  'd  see  the  warrant  to  make  me  master  of 
the  rolls.  Who  'd  say  there  is  n't  luck  in  a  leg  of  pork  ? 
She  's  a  darling  girl ;  and  beautiful  as  she  is,  her  looks 
is  n't  the  best  of  her,  —  an  angel  as  sure  as  I  am  here  ! 
And  look  here,"  —  here  he  dropped  his  voice,  —  "  seven 
thousand  a  year,  that  may  be  made  nine  !  Hennessy's 
farm  is  out  of  lease  in  October  ;  and  the  Cluangoff  estate 
is  let  at  ten  shillings  an  acre.  Hurroo  !  maybe  I  won't  be 
drunk  to-night ;  and  bad  luck  to  the  Cossack,  Tartar,  Bo- 
hemian, or  any  other  blackguard  I  '11  let  into  the  house 
this  day  or  night !     Sworn,  my  lord." 

After  some  little  discussion,  it  was  arranged  that  if 
Louisa  would  give  her  consent  to  the  arrangement,  the 
marriage  should  take  place  before  the  Rooneys  left  Paris. 
Meanwhile,  Paul  agreed  with  me  in  keeping  the  whole 
matter  a  perfect  secret  from  everybody,  Mrs.  Rooney  her- 


276  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

self  included.  Our  arrangements  were  scarcely  completed 
when  O'Grady  appeared.  Having  waited  for  me  some 
time  at  his  hotel,  he  had  set  out  in  search  of  me. 

"  I  'm  your  man  to-day,  Paul,"  said  he.  "  You  got  my 
note,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Rooney,  whose  double  secret  of  the 
marriage  and  the  leg  of  pork  seemed  almost  too  much  for 
him  to  bear. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  tell  Phil,"  said  I  in  a  whisper. 

"No  one  else,"  said  Paul,  as  we  left  the  house,  and  I 
took  O'Grady's  arm  down  the  street. 

"  Well,  I  have  frightened  De  Vere  to  some  purpose," 
said  O'Grady.  "  He  has  made  a  full  confession  about 
Burke,  who  was  even  a  deeper  villain  than  we  supposed. 
What  do  you  think  ?  He  has  been  the  spy  of  the  Bona- 
partist  faction  all  this  time,  and  selling  old  Guillemain  as 
regularly  as  the  others.  To  indulge  his  passion  for  play, 
he  received  the  pay  of  four  different  parties,  whom  he 
pitted  against  one  another  exactly  as  he  saw  proper. 
Consummate  clever  scoundrel !  —  he  had  to  deal  with  men 
whose  whole  lives  are  passed  in  the  very  practice  of  every 
chicanery  and  deceit,  and  yet  he  has  jockied  them  all ! 
What  a  sad  thing  to  think  that  such  abilities  and  knowledge 
of  mankind  should  be  prostituted  to  the  lowest  and  most 
debasing  uses ;  and  that  the  sole  tendency  of  such  talent 
should  be  to  dishonor  and  disgrace  its  possessor  !  Some 
of  his  manufactured  despatches  were  masterpieces  of 
cleverness." 

"  Well,  where  is  he  now  ?     Still  in  Paris  ?  " 

"  No.  The  moment  he  had  so  far  forgotten  himself  as 
to  strike  De  Vere,  he  forged  a  passport  and  returned  to 
London,  carrying  with  him  hosts  of  papers  of  the  French 
authorities,  which  to  our  foreign  office  will  be  very  accept- 
able. De  Vere  meanwhile  feels  quite  at  his  ease.  He  was 
always  afraid  of  his  companion,  yet  can't  forgive  him  his 
last  indignity." 

"  No !     A  blow  ! " 

"  Not  at  all ;  you  mistake.     His  regrets  have  a  different 


DISCLOSURES.  277 

origin.  It  is  for  not  backing  the  '  rouge '  that  he  is 
inexorable  towards  him.  Besides,  he  is  under  the  impres- 
sion that  all  these  confessions  he  has  been  making  establish 
for  him  a  kind  of  moral  insolvency  act,  by  which  he  is  to 
come  forth  irresponsible  for  the  past,  and  quite  ready  to 
contract  new  debts  for  the  future.  At  this  moment  his 
greatest  point  of  doubt  consists  in  whether  he  should 
marry  your  cousin,  Lady  Julia,  or  Miss  Bellew ;  for,  in  his 
own  phrase,  'he  must  do  something  that  way  to  come 
round.' " 

"  Impudent  scoundrel ! " 

"  Fact,  I  assure  you ;  and  so  easy,  so  unaffected,  so  free 
from  embarrassment  of  any  kind  is  he,  that  I'm  really 
quite  a  convert  to  this  modern  school  of  good  manners, 
when  associating  with  even  such  as  Burke  conveys  no 
feeling  of  shame  or  discomfort.  More  than  could  be  said 
some  forty  years  ago,  I  fancy." 

It  was  the  hour  of  my  mother's  morning  reception, 
and  we  found  the  drawing-room  crowded  with  loungers 
and  fashionable  idlers,  discussing  the  news  of  the  day, 
and  above  all  the  Roni  fete,  the  extraordinary  finale  to 
which  gave  rise  to  a  hundred  conjectures,  —  some  asserting 
that  Monsieur  de  Roni's  song  was  a  violent  pasquinade 
against  the  Emperor  Alexander;  others,  equally  well  in- 
formed, alleging  it  was  the  concerted  signal  for  a  general 
massacre  of  the  allies,  which  was  to  have  begun  at  the 
same  moment  in  the  Rue  Montmartre.  "  She  is  a  Bona- 
partist,  a  Legitimiste,  a  Xeapolitane,  an  Anversoise,"  con- 
tended one  after  another,  —  my  only  fear  being  that  some 
one  would  enlighten  the  party  by  saying  she  was  the  wife 
of  an  Irish  attorney.  All  agreed,  however,  she  was  bien 
mauvais  ton  ;  that  her  fete  was,  with  all  its  magnificence, 
anything  but  select;  her  supper  superb,  but  too  crowded 
by  half;  and,  in  fact,  that  Madame  Roni  had  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  of  ruining  herself  to  very  little  other  purpose  than 
that  of  being  generally  ridiculed  and  laughed  at. 

"And  this  niece,  or  ward,  or  whatever  it  is,  — who  can 
tell  anything  of  her  ?  "  said  my  mother. 


2tS  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  Ah,  pardieu !  she  's  very  handsome,"  said  Grammont, 
with  a  malicious  smile. 

"  Perfect,"  said  another ;  "  quite  perfect ;  but  a  little,  a 
very  little  too  graceful.     Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  said  Lady  Charlotte,  as 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  animation  at  the  thought  of  a 
secret. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  last  speaker,  carelessly ;  "  ex- 
cept that  one  always  detects  the  danseuse.  She  was  thin- 
ner when  I  saw  her  at  Naples." 

I  whispered  one  word  —  but  one  —  in  his  ear,  and  his 
face  became  purple  with  shame  and  confusion. 

"  Eh,  what  is  it  ?  "  said  my  mother,  eagerly.  "  John 
knows  something  of  her  too.  John,  dearest,  let  us 
hear   it?" 

"  I  am  in  your  Ladyship's  debt  as  regards  one  secret," 
said  O'Grady,  interrupting ;  "  perhaps  I  may  be  permitted 
to  pay  it  on  this  occasion.  The  lady  in  question  is  the 
daughter  of  an  Irish  baronet,  the  descendant  of  a  family  as 
old  as  any  of  those  who  now  hear  me.  That  baronet  would 
have  been  a  peer  of  the  realm  had  he  consented  to  vote  once 
—  but  once  —  with  the  minister,  on  a  question  where  his 
conscience  told  him  to  oppose  him.  His  refusal  was  re- 
paid by  neglect ;  others  were  promoted  to  rank  and  honors 
before  him ;  but  the  frown  of  a  minister  could  neither  take 
away  the  esteem  of  his  country  nor  his  own  self-respect. 
He  is  now  dead ;  but  his  daughter  is  the  worthy  inheritor 
of  his  virtues  and  his  name.  Perhaps  I  might  interest  the 
present  company  as  much  in  her  favor  by  adding,  she  pos- 
sesses something  like  eight  thousand  per  annum." 

"Two  hundred  thousand  Uvres  de  rent!"  said  Gram- 
mont, smacking  his  lips  with  astonishment,  and  perfectly 
insensible  to  the  tone  of  mockery  in  which  O'Grady's  last 
words  were  spoken. 

"  And  you  are  sure  of  all  this  ?  "  said  my  mother. 

O'Grady  bowed  deeply,  but  without  speaking,  while  his 
features  assumed  an  expression  of  severe  determination  I 
had  never  witnessed  before.     I  could  not  help  remarking, 


DISCLOSURES.  279 

that,  amid  the  dismay  such  an  announcement  created  in 
that  gossiping  and  calumnious  assembly,  my  cousin  Julia's 
eyes  shone  with  an  added  lustre,  and  her  whole  face 
beamed  with  a  look  of  proud  and  exalted  beauty. 

This  was  now  the  time  to  tell  O'Grady  my  secret ;  and 
drawing  him  towards  a  window,  I  said,  — 

"Phil,  I  can  wait  no  longer,  —  you  must  hear  it.  I  'm 
going  to  be  married." 

The  words  had  not  left  my  lips,  when  O'Grady  started 
back,  his  face  pale  like  a  corpse,  and  his  whole  frame 
trembling  with  eagerness.  By  a  violent  effort,  however, 
he  rallied ;  and  as  he  clutched  my  arm  with  his  fingers, 
he  said,  — 

"  I  must  be  going ;  these  good  people  have  made  me  for- 
get an  appointment.  Make  my  respectful  homage  to  her 
Ladyship  —  and  the  bride.     I  shall  see  you  before  I  leave." 

"  Leave  !     Why,  where  are  you  thinking  of  going  ?  " 

"  To  India." 

"  To  India  !  "  said  Julia,  starting  round  as  he  spoke. 

"  To  India  !  "  said  I,  in  amazement. 

He  nodded,  and  turning  quickly  round,  left  the  room. 

I  hastened  after  him  with  all  my  speed,  and  dashing  down- 
stairs was  making  for  the  parte  cochere,  when  a  shadow 
beside  the  doorway  caught  my  eye.  I  stopped.  It  was 
O'Grady :  he  was  leaning  against  the  wall,  his  head  buried 
in  his  hands.  A  horrible  doubt  shot  through  my  heart.  I 
dared  not  dwell  upon  it ;  but  rushing  towards  him,  I  called 
him  by  his  name.  He  turned  quickly  round,  while  a  fierce 
wild  look  glistened  in  his  eyes. 

"  Not  now,  Hinton,  not  now !  "  said  he,  motioning  me 
away  with  his  hand ;  and  then,  as  a  cold  shudder  passed 
over  him,  he  drew  his  hand  across  his  face,  and  added  in 
a  lower  tone,  "  I  never  thought  to  have  betrayed  myself 
thus.  Good-by,  my  clear  fellow,  good-by !  It  were  better 
we  shouldn't  meet  again." 

"My  dearest,  best  friend!  I  never  dreamed  that  the 
brightest  hour  of  my  life  was  to  throw  this  gloom  over 
your  heart." 


280  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

"  Yes,  Jack,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  low  and  broken,  "  from 
the  first  hour  I  saw  her  I  loved  her.  The  cold  manner  she 
maintained  towards  me  at  your  father's  house  —  " 

"  In  my  father's  house  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  When  in  London,  I  speak  of,  —  when  I  joined  first  — 
your  cousin  —  " 

"  My  cousin  ! " 

"  Yes,  Lady  Julia.  Are  you  so  impatient  to  call  her  wife 
that  you  will  not  remember  her  as  cousin  ?  " 

"  Call  her  wife !  My  dear  boy,  you  're  raving.  It 's 
Louisa  Bellew ! " 

"  What !     Is  it  Miss  Bellew  you  are  to  marry  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  —  " 

But  I  could  not  finish  the  sentence,  as  O'Grady  fell  upon 
my  shoulder,  and  his  strong  frame  was  convulsed  with 
emotion. 

In  an  instant,  however,  I  tore  myself  away ;  and  calling 
out,  "  Wait  for  me  O'Grady ! "  I  rushed  upstairs,  peeped 
hastily  into  the  drawing-room,  and  then  hurrying  along  the 
corridor  opened  a  door  at  the  end.  The  blinds  of  the  win- 
dows were  down,  and  the  room  so  dark  that  I  could  scarcely 
perceive  if  any  one  were  there  had  not  my  steps  been 
guided  by  a  low  sob  which  I  heard  issue  from  the  end  of 
the  sofa. 

"Julia,"  said  I,  rushing  forward,  —  "Julia,  my  dearest 
cousin  !  this  is  no  time  to  deceive  ourselves.  He  loves  you, 
—  loved  you  from  the  first  hour  he  met  you.  Let  me  have 
but  one  word.  Can  he,  dare  he  hope  that  you  are  not  in- 
different to  him  ?  Let  him  but  see  you,  but  speak  to  you. 
Believe  me,  you  have  bent  a  heart  as  proud  and  haughty 
as  your  own;  and  you  will  have  broken  it  if  you  refuse 
him.  There,  dearest  girl  —  Thanks !  my  heart's  thanks 
for  that ! " 

The  slightest  pressure  of  her  taper  fingers  sent  a  thrill 
through  me,  as  I  sprang  up  and  dashed  down  the  stairs. 
In  an  instant  I  had  seized  O'Grady's  arm,  and  the  next 
moment  whispered  in  his  ear,  — 

"  You  've  won  her ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


NEW    ARRIVALS. 


Mr.  Paul  Rooney's  secret  was  destined  to  be  inviolable 
as  regarded  his  leg  of  pork ;  for  Madame  de  Roni,  either 
from  chagrin  or  fatigue,  did  not  leave  her  room  the  entire 
day.  Miss  Bellew  declined  joining  us  ;  and  we  sat  down,  a 
party  of  three,  each  wrapped  up  in  his  own  happiness  in  a 
degree  far  too  great  to  render  us  either  social  or  conversa- 
tional. It  is  true  the  wine  circulated  briskly,  and  we 
nodded  pleasantly  now  and  then  to  one  another ;  but  all  our 
efforts  to  talk  led  to  so  many  blunders  and  cross  answers 
that  we  scarcely  ventured  on  more  than  a  chance  phrase  or 
a  good-humored  smile.  There  were  certainly  several  bar- 
riers in  the  way  of  our  complete  happiness,  in  the  innumer- 
able prejudices  of  my  lady-mother,  who  would  be  equally 
averse  to  O'Grady's  project  as  to  my  own  ;  but  now  was 
not  the  time  to  speculate  on  these,  and  we  wrapped  our- 
selves up  in  the  glorious  anticipation  of  our  success,  and 
cared  little  for  such  sources  of  opposition  as  might  now 
arise.  Meanwhile,  Paul  entered  into  a  long  and  doubtless 
very  accurate  statement  of  the  Bellew  property,  to  which, 
I  confess,  I  paid  little  attention,  save  when  the  name  of 
Louisa  occurred,  which  momentarily  aroused  me  from  my 
dreaminess.  All  the  wily  stratagems  by  which  he  had 
gained  his  points  with  Galway  juries,  all  the  cunning  de- 
vices by  which  he  had  circumvented  opposing  lawyers  and 
obtained  verdicts  in  almost  hopeless  cases,  however  I  might 
have  relished  another  time,  I  only  now  listened  to  without 
interest,  or  heard  without  understanding. 

Towards  ten  o'clock  I  received  more  than  one  hint  from 
O'Grady  that  we  had  promised  to  take  tea  at  the  Place 


282  JACK  HINTON,  THE  GUARDSMAN. 

Vendome  ;  while  I  myself  was  manoeuvring  to  find  out,  if 
we  were  to  adjourn  for  coffee,  what  prospect  there  might 
be  of  seeing  Louisa  Bellew  in  the  drawing-room. 

It  was  in  that  dusky  twilight  we  sat  which  somehow 
seems  so  suited  to  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  one's  claret  with 
a  small  and  chosen  party ;  where  intimacy  prevails  suffi- 
ciently to  make  conversation  more  a  thing  of  choice  than 
necessity ;  where  each  man  can  follow  out  his  own  path  in 
thought  and  only  let  his  neighbor  have  a  peep  here  and  there 
into  his  dreamings,  when  some  vista  opens,  or  some  bold 
prospect  stretches  away.  Next  to  the  blazing  fire  of  a  win- 
ter's hearth,  this  is  the  pleasantest  thing  I  know  of.  Thus 
was  it,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  dusky  outline  of  a 
figure  appeared  at  the  entrance. 

"  Is  Master  Phil  here  ?  "  said  a  cranky  voice  there  was 
no  mistaking  as  Mister  Delany's. 

"  Yes,  Corny.     What 's  wrong  ?     Anything  new  ?  " 

"  Where  's  the  captain  ?  "  said  he  in  the  same  tone. 

"  I  'm  here,  Corny,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  there  's  them  looking  for  you  without,"  said  he, 
"  that  '11  maybe  surprise  you,  pleasant  as  ye  are  now." 

A  detestable  effort  at  a  laugh  here  brought  on  a  fit  of 
coughing  that  lasted  a  couple  of  minutes. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  said  I.     «  Where  are  they  ?  " 

A  significant  gesture  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder 
was  the  only  reply  to  my  question,  while  he  barked  out, 
"  Don't  you  see  me  coughing  the  inside  out  o'  me  ?  " 

I  started  up,  and  without  attending  to  Paul's  suggestion 
to  bring  my  friends  in,  or  to  O'Grady's  advice  to  be  cau- 
tious if  it  were  Burke,  hurried  outside,  where  a  servant  of 
the  house  was  in  waiting  to  conduct  me. 

"  Two  gentlemen  in  the  drawing-room,  sir,"  said  he,  as 
he  preceded  me  down  the  corridor. 

The  next  instant  the  door  opened,  and  I  saw  my  father 
accompanied  by  another  person,  who  being  wrapped  up  in 
travelling  equipment,  I  could  not  recognize. 

"  My  dear  father  !  "  said  I,  rushing  towards  him,  when 
suddenly  I  stopped  short,  as  I  perceived  that   instead  of 


NEW  ARRIVALS.  283 

the  affectionate  welcome  I  looked  for  he  had  crossed  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  and  fixed  on  me  a  look  of  stern 
displeasure. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  said  I,  in  amazement ;  "  it 
was  not  thus  I  expected  —  " 

"  It  was  not  thus  I  hoped  to  have  received  my  son,"  said 
he,  resolutely,  "  after  a  long  and  eventful  separation.  But 
this  is  too  painful  to  endure  longer.  Answer  me,  and  with 
the  same  truth  I  have  always  found  in  you,  —  is  there  a 
young  lady  in  this  house  called  Miss  Bellew  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  and  a  cold  perspiration  broke  over 
me,  and  I  could  scarcely  support  myself. 

"  Did  you  make  her  acquaintance  in  Ireland  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Did  you  at  that  time  use  every  effort  to  win  her  affec- 
tions, and  give  her  to  understand  that  she  had  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  more  faintly  than  before ;  for  already 
some  horrible  doubt  was  creeping  on  my  mind. 

"  And  have  you  now,  sir,"  continued  he,  in  a  voice  ele- 
vated to  a  higher  pitch,  —  "  have  you  now,  sir,  when  a 
prospect  of  a  richer  alliance  presents  itself,  dishonored 
yourself  and  my  name,  by  deserting  the  girl  whose  affec- 
tions you  have  so  gained  ?  " 

"  No,  sir !  that  is  untrue." 

"Stop,  young  man!  I  have  one  at  hand  this  moment 
who  may  compel  you  to  retract  your  words  as  shame- 
fully as  you  have  boldly  said  them.  Do  you  know  this 
gentleman  ?  " 

"  Father  Loftus ! "  said  I,  starting  back  with  astonish- 
ment, as  the  good  priest  unfolded  a  huge  comforter  from 
his  throat,  and  stood  forth. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  no  other,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  of  great 
sadness ;  "  and  sorry  I  am  to  see  you  this  way." 

"  You,  surely,  my  dear  friend,"  said  I,  —  "  you  cannot 
believe  thus  harshly  of  me  ?  " 

"  If  it  was  n't  for  your  handwriting,  I  'd  not  have   be- 
lieved the  Pope  of  Borne,"  was  his  reply,  as  he  wiped 
•  his  eyes.     "  But  there  it  is." 


284  JACK  HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

So  saying,  he  handed  to  me,  with  trembling  fingers,  a 
letter,  bearing  the  Paris  post-mark. 

I  tore  it  open,  and  found  it  was  written  in  my  own  name, 
and  addressed  to  Father  Loftus,  informing  him  of  my  deep 
regret,  that,  having  discovered  the  unhappy  circumstance 
of  her  mother's  conduct,  I  was  obliged  to  relinquish  all 
thoughts  of  an  alliance  with  Miss  Bellew's  family,  whose 
connection  with  my  own  had  been  so  productive  of  heavy 
misfortune.  This  also  contained  an  open  note,  to  be 
handed  by  the  priest  to  Miss  Bellew,  in  which  I  was  made 
formally  to  renounce  her  hand,  for  reasons  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Father  Loftus. 

In  a  second  the  truth  flashed  across  me  from  whom  this 
plot  proceeded;  and  scarcely  permitting  myself  time  to 
read  the  letter  through,  I  called  out,  — 

"  This  is  a  forgery !  I  never  wrote  it,  never  saw  it 
before  ! " 

"  What !  "  said  my  father,  starting  round,  and  fixing  his 
eye  on  the  priest. 

"  You  never  wrote  it  ?  "  echoed  Father  Tom.  "  Do  you 
say  so  ?     Is  that  your  word  as  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  It  is,"  said  I,  firmly.  "  This  day,  this  very  day,  I 
have  asked  Miss  Bellew  to  be  my  wife,  and  she  has 
consented." 

Before  my  father  could  seize  my  hand,  the  good  priest 
had  thrown  his  arms  round  my  neck  and  given  me  an  em- 
brace a  bear  might  have  envied.  The  scene  that  followed 
I  cannot  describe.  My  poor  father,  quite  overpowered,  sat 
down  upon  a  chair,  holding  my  hand  within  both  his ;  while 
Father  Tom  bustled  about  the  room,  looking  into  all  the 
glass  and  china  ornaments  for  something  to  drink,  as  his 
mouth,  he  said,  was  like  a  lime-burner's  hat.  The  honest 
fellow,  it  appeared,  on  receiving  the  letters  signed  with  my 
name,  left  his  home  the  same  night  and  travelled  with  all 
speed  to  London,  where  he  found  my  father  just  on  the  eve 
of  leaving  for  Paris.  Very  little  persuasion  was  necessary 
to  induce  him  to  continue  his  journey  farther.  On  their 
arrival  at  Paris  they  had  gone  to  O'Grady's  hotel,  where, 


NEW   ARRIVALS.  285 

securing  Corny's  services,  they  lost  not  a  moment  in  track- 
ing me  out  in  the  manner  I  have  mentioned. 

O'Grady's  surprise  was  little  inferior  to  my  own,  as  I 
introduced  General  Hinton  and  Father  Loftus.  But  as  to 
Mr.  Eooney,  he  actually  believed  the  whole  to  be  a  dream ; 
and  even  when  candles  were  brought,  and  he  had  taken  a 
patient  survey  of  the  priest,  he  was  far  from  crediting  that 
my  parent  was  not  performed  b}^  deputy,  till  my  father's 
tact  and  manner  convinced  him  of  his  mistake. 

While  the  priest  was  recounting  some  circumstances  of 
his  journey,  I  took  occasion  to  tell  my  father  of  O'Grady's 
intentions  regarding  Julia,  which  with  all  the  warmth  of 
his  nature  he  at  once  responded  to ;  and  touching  his  glass 
gayly  with  Phil's,  merely  added,  "  With  my  best  wishes." 
Poor  O'Grady  caught  up  the  meaning  at  once,  and  grasped 
his  hand  with  enthusiasm,  while  the  tears  started  to  his 
eyes. 

It  would  lead  me  too  far,  and  perhaps  where  the  good 
nature  of  my  reader  might  not  follow  me,  were  I  to  speak 
more  of  that  happy  evening.  It  is  enough  to  say  that 
Father  Loftus  won  every  moment  on  my  father,  who  also 
was  delighted  with  the  hearty  raciness  of  honest  Paul. 
Their  stores  of  pleasantry  and  fun,  so  new  to  him,  were 
poured  forth  with  profusion ;  and  a  party  every  member 
of  which  was  more  disposed  to  like  one  another  and  be 
pleased,  never  met  together. 

I  myself,  however,  was  not  without  my  feeling  of  impa- 
tience to  reach  the  drawing-room,  which  I  took  the  first 
favorable  opportunity  of  effecting,  —  only  then  perceiving 
that  O'Grady  had  anticipated  me,  having  stolen  away  some 
time  before. 


CHAPTEK  XXXIV. 


CONCLUSION. 


It  would  be  even  more  wearisome  to  my  reader  than  the 
fact  was  worrying  to  myself,  were  I  to  recount  the  steps  by 
which  my  father  communicated  to  Lady  Charlotte  the  in- 
tended marriages,  and  finally  obtained  her  consent  to  both. 
Fortunately,  for  some  time  previous  she  had  been  getting 
tired  of  Paris,  and  was  soon  brought  to  suppose  that  these 
little  family  arrangements  were  as  much  "  got  up  "  to  afford 
her  an  agreeable  surprise  and  a  healthful  stimulant  to  her 
weak  nerves  as  for  any  other  cause  whatever. 

With  Mrs.  Rooney,  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  con- 
siderable difficulty.  The  holy  alliance  she  had  contracted 
with  the  sovereigns  had  suggested  so  much  of  grandeur  to 
her  expectations  that  she  dreamed  of  nothing  but  archdukes 
and  counts  of  the  empire,  and  was  at  first  quite  inexorable 
at  the  bare  idea  of  the  mesalliance  that  awaited  her  ward. 
A  chance  decided  what  resisted  every  species  of  argument. 
Corny  Delany,  who  had  been  sent  with  a  note  to  Mr. 
Rooney,  happened  to  be  waiting  in  the  hall  while  Mrs. 
Rooney  passed  out  to  her  carriage  escorted  by  the  "Tartar" 
of  whom  we  have  already  made  mention.  Mrs.  Rooney  was 
communicating  her  orders  to  her  bearded  attendant  hj  a 
code  of  signals  on  her  fingers,  when  Corny,  who  watched 
the  proceeding  with  increasing  impatience,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Arrah,  can't  you  tell  the  man  what  you  want  ?  Sure, 
though  you  have  him  dressed  like  a  wild  baste,  he  does  n't 
forget  English." 

"It  is  a  Tartar ! "  said  Mrs.  Rooney,  with  a  contemptuous 
sneer  at  Corny  and  a  forbidding  wave  of  her  hand  ordaining 
silence. 


CONCLUSION. 


287 


rt  A  Tarther !  Oh,  blessed  Timothy !  there 's  a  name  for 
one  that  comes  of  dacent  people !  He  's  a  county  Carlo w 
man,  and  well  known  he  is  in  the  same  parts.  Many  a  writ 
he  served,  —  eh,  Tim  ?  " 

"  Tim ! "  said  Mrs.  Rooney,  in  horror,  as  she  beheld  her 
wild-looking  friend  grin  from  ear  to  ear,  with  a  most  fearful 
significance  of  what  he  heard. 


"It  was  n't  my  fault,  Ma'am,  at  all,"  said  the  Tartar,  with 
a  very  Dublin  accent  in  the  words  ;  "  it  was  the  master 
made  me." 

What  further  explanation  Tim  might  have  afforded  it  is 
difficult  to  say,  for  Mrs.  Rooney's  nerves  had  received  too 
severe  and  too  sudden  a  shock.  A  horrible  fear  lest  all  the 
kingly  and  royal  personages  by  whom  she  had  been  for 
some  weeks  surrounded  might  only  turn  out  to  be  Carlow 
men,  or  something  as  unsubstantial,  beset  her;  a  dreadful 


288  JACK   HINTON,  THE   GUARDSMAN. 

unbelief  of  everything  and  everybody  seized  upon  her,  and, 
quite  overcome,  she  fainted.  O'Grady,  who  happened  to 
come  up  at  the  instant,  learned  the  whole  secret  at  once, 
and  with  his  wonted  readiness  resolved  to  profit  by  it. 
Mrs.  Paul  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  and  ere  half  an 
hour  was  fully  persuaded  that  as  General  Hinton  was 
about  to  depart  for  Ireland  as  commander  of  the  forces, 
the  alliance  was  on  the  whole  not  so  deplorable  as  she  had 
feared. 

To  reconcile  so  many  conflicting  interests,  to  conciliate  so 
many  totally  opposite  characters,  was  a  work  I  should  com- 
pletely have  failed  in  without  O'Grady's  assistance.  He, 
however,  entered  upon  it  con  amove  ;  and  under  his  auspices, 
not  only  did  Lady  Charlotte  receive  the  visits  of  Father 
Tom  Loftus,  but  Mr.  Paul  became  actually  a  favorite  with 
my  cousin  Julia ;  and,  finally,  the  grand  catastrophe  of  the 
drama  was  accomplished,  and  my  lady-mother  proceeded  in 
all  state  to  wait  on  Mrs.  Rooney  herself,  who,  whatever  her 
previous  pretensions,  was  so  awed  by  the  condescension  of 
her  Ladyship's  manner  that  she  actually  struck  her  colors 
at  the  first  broadside. 

Weddings  are  stupid  things  in  reality,  but  on  paper  they 
are  detestable.  Not  even  the  "  Morning  Post "  can  give 
them  a  touch  of  interest.  I  shall  not,  then,  trouble  my 
reader  with  any  narrative  of  white  satin  and  orange-flowers, 
bouquets,  breakfasts,  and  Bishop  Luscombe  ;  neither  shall 
I  entertain  him  with  the  article  in  the  French  "  Feuilleton  " 
as  to  which  of  the  two  brides  was  the  more  strictly  beauti- 
ful, and  which  more  lovely. 

Having  introduced  my  reader  to  certain  acquaintances, 
—  some  of  them  rather  equivocal  ones,  I  confess,  —  I  ought 
perhaps  to  add  a  word  of  their  future  fortunes. 

Mr.  Ulick  Burke  escaped  to  America,  where,  by  the  exer- 
cise of  his  abilities  and  natural  sharpness,  he  accumulated 
a  large  fortune,  and  distinguished  by  his  anti-English  pre- 
judices, became  a  leading  member  of  Congress. 


CONCLUSION.  289 

Of  Lord  Dudley  de  Vere  I  only  know  that  he  has  lived 
long  enough,  if  not  to  benefit  by  experience,  to  take  advan- 
tage of  Lord  Brougham's  change  in  the  law  of  imprison- 
ment for  debt.  I  saw  his  name  in  a  late  number  of  "  The 
Times,"  with  a  debt  of  some  fifteen  thousand  annexed 
to  it,  against  which  his  available  property  was  eleven 
pounds  odd  shillings. 

Father  Loftus  sleeps  in  Murranakilty.  No  stone  marks 
his  resting-place ;  but  not  a  peasant's  foot,  for  many  a  mile 
round,  has  not  pressed  the  little  pathway  that  leads  to  his 
grave,  to  offer  up  a  prayer  for  a  good  man  and  a  friend  to 
the  poor. 

Tipperary  Joe  is  still  to  be  met  on  the  Kilkenny  road.  His 
old  red  coat,  now  nearly  russet  color,  is  torn  and  ragged  •, 
the  top-boots  have  given  place  to  bare  legs,  as  well  tanned 
as  their  predecessors ;  but  his  merry  voice  and  cheerful 
"  Tallyho  ! "  are  still  as  rich  as  of  yore,  and  his  heart,  poor 
fellow  !  as  light  as  ever  it  was. 

Corny  Delany  is  the  amiable  proprietor  of  a  hotel  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Castlebar,  where  his  habitual  courtesy  and 
amenity  are  as  conspicuous  as  of  yore.  He  has  requested 
me  to  take  this  opportunity  of  recommending  his  establish- 
ment to  the  "  Haythins  and  Turks  "  that  yearly  perform 
tours  in  his  vicinity. 

The  Rooneys  live,  and  are  as  hospitable  as  ever.  I  dare 
not  venture  to  give  their  address,  lest  you  should  take 
advantage  of  the  information. 

O'Grady  and  his  wife  are  now  at  Malta. 

Jack  Hinton  and  his  are,  as  they  have  every  right  to 
be, — 

Your  very  grateful  and  obedient  Servants. 

VOL.  II.  — 19 


ENVOY. 

My  dear  Friends,  —  Yon  must  often  have  witnessed,  in  the 
half-hour  which  preludes  departure  from  a  dinner-party,  the  species 
of  quiet  bustle  leave-taking  produces.  The  low-voiced  announce- 
ment of  Mr.  Somebody's  carriage,  the  whispered  good-night,  the 
bow,  the  slide,  the  half-pressed  finger,  —  and  he  is  gone.  Another 
and  another  succeed  him,  and  the  few  who  linger  on  turn  ever 
towards  the  opening  door,  and  while  they  affect  to  seem  at  ease,  are 
cursing  their  coachman  and  wondering  at  the  delay. 

The  position  of  the  host  on  such  an  occasion  is  precisely  that 
of  the  author  at  the  close  of  a  volume.  The  same  doubts  are  his 
whether  the  entertainment  he  has  provided  has  pleased  his  guests; 
whether  the  persons  he  has  introduced  to  one  another  are  mutually 
satisfied.  And,  finally,  the  same  solitude  which  visits  him  who 
"  treads  alone  some  banquet-hall  deserted  "  settles  down  upon  the 
weary  writer  who  watches  one  by  one  the  spirits  he  has  conjured  up 
depart  forever,  and,  worse  still,  sees  the  tie  snapped  that  for  so  long 
a  period  has  bound  him  to  his  readers;  and  while  they  have  turned 
to  other  and  newer  sources  of  amusement,  he  is  left  to  brood  over 
the  time  when  they  walked  together,  and  his  voice  was  heard 
amongst  them. 

Like  all  who  look  back,  he  sees  how  much  better  he  could  have 
done  were  he  again  to  live  over  the  past.  He  regrets  many  an 
opportunity  of  interesting  you  lost  forever,  many  an  occasion  to 
amuse  you  which  may  never  occur  again.  It  is  thus  that  somehow 
—  insensibly,  I  believe  —  a  kind  of  sadness  creeps  over  one  at  the 
end  of  a  volume;  misgivings  as  to  success  mingle  with  sorrows 
for  the  loss  of  our  accustomed  studies;  and,  altogether,  the  author  is 
little  to  be  envied,  who,  having  enjoyed  your  sympathy  and  good 
wishes  for  twelve  months,  finds  himself  at  last  at  the  close  of  the 
year,  at  the  limit  of  your  kindness,  and  obliged  to  say  "  Good-by," 
even  though  it  condemns  him  to  solitude. 


ENVOY.  291 

I  did  wish,  before  parting  with  you  at  this  season,  to  justify  my- 
self before  you  for  certain  things  which  my  critics  have  laid  to  my 
charge;  but  on  second  thoughts  I  have  deemed  it  better  to  say 
nothing,  lest  by  my  defence  against  manslaughter  a  new  indictment 
should  be  framed,  and  convict  me  of  murder. 

Such  is  the  simple  truth.  The  faults,  the  very  great  faults,  of 
my  book  I  am  as  well  aware  of  as  I  feel  myself  unable  to  correct 
them.  But  in  justice  to  my  monitors  I  must  say,  that  they  have 
less  often  taken  me  up  when  tripping  than  when  I  stood  erect  upon 
good  and  firm  ground.  Yet  let  me  be  grateful  for  all  their  kind- 
ness, which  for  critics  is  certainly  long-lived ;  and  that  I  may  still 
continue  for  a  season  to  enjoy  their  countenance  and  yours  is  the 
most  sincere  desire  of 

Your  very  devoted  servant, 

HARRY  LORREQUER. 

P.  S.  — A  bashful  friend  desires  an  introduction  to  you.  May  I 
present  Tom  Burke,  of  Ours  ? 

H.  L. 


r 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY  y 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed.  HPi  ^j 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


15Ai 


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RECEIVED 

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D  21-100m-ll,'49(B7146sl6)476 


193063 


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